#Those apprehensive eyes with that tiny step back and the way he shakes

[thelostgirl21]

Help him...

[imaginethezeldaverse]

The Desert's Moon (Ganondorf x Reader) (NSFW)

Welcome, welcome to the 100 follower fic I set all those polls for! You all chose and waited so patiently, so please allow me to give you the winner: a good fic with our big bad guy, Ganondorf (Tears of the Kingdom version). This will be nsfw, and just to be safe, be wary of any spoilers below the cut, okay? For this fic I'm running with an idea that was dropped in my inbox - initially I had planned to make it a simple headcanon post, but since he won, I'm writing it as a full blown fic instead. Thank you all for voting, it sincerely means a lot, I cannot believe even more of you have followed me since then. The comments and appreciation from you all truly makes my day. 🥹 As for the theme: you are inexperienced (we'll even say virginal) and Ganondorf here is going to be your first. Let's explore that together, shall we? Reader is gender neutral for all to enjoy. I sniped some fictional Gerudo language from here because I mean Ganondorf is a Gerudo man...he definitely should be able to speak the language.

Ganondorf is intimidating, this much is true. His demeanor exudes power in all things he does: fight, lead, and even fuck. He's had many a partner, his skills as a lover growing with each encounter of his past. He is not unfamiliar with experienced partners - and he will show you the patience and slowness you deserve.

The key is for you to be honest with him. Should you try to front as though you are experienced in sex, just know that he can see right through you. Ganondorf's read on body language is exceptional - so the slight shake in your body or the quiver in your voice is an immediate alert to him that you aren't what you're trying to portray yourself as. To your benefit however, he'll most likely find this cute. You attempting to be brave and take him head on is adorable, even though you have no idea what you'd be getting into (or really what would be getting into you). Being upfront however is not without its loss - you'd gain his respect and potentially a chance to call him an equal, he likes the idea of a long-term partner who can be honest with themselves as well as him.

For a man of his size and status, he's quite gentle. He offers to hold you first in your nudity, get you used to feeling his body against yours. Ganondorf will most likely seat you in his lap, with your legs splayed open over the length of his hips and thighs. Should you shy away or find yourself embarrassed by the less than polite way you're sat on him, he'll simply chuckle, reiterating that this is to acclimate you. His hands will find a place on your thighs, unmoving, but present. "Touch me anywhere you'd like," he offers, the rich amber of his eyes meeting your own. Setting the pace in your favor will help ease some of your apprehension. Your hands explore the planes of his body: his adept, powerful hands; the sizable, muscular curvatures of his forearms and biceps; over the thickened bands of his shoulders and down to the broad expanse of his chest. He's a mountainous man in size and that alone has you a tiny bit afraid, but you also can't deny that being able to trace your fingertips over the patterned tattoos that stretch across his muscles doesn't elate you.

When your hands finally cup the wide angles of his jaw, you find the pluck to once more lock eyes with the Gerudo chief. There's something unreadable swimming in them: whether it's tenderness or restraint you aren't wholly sure. His arm wraps around your lower back, bring you ever closer to him in a swift push. Your hands remain on his face, lips inching closer. Ganondorf doesn't kiss you. No, he wants you to be the one to take the honor of taking the first step. The world talks of his lust and greed for power, and make no mistake, the rumors are very much true. But this - intimacy with you - Ganondorf knows better than to rush. Taking you by force serves him little, and there is humanity in him still that bars him from wanting any harm to come to you. To feel your body yearn for him willingly only makes that much sweeter. Your breaths mingle momentarily, your heart pounding in your chest until you finally take the plunge and seal the gap. You're chaste in your kiss, timidity holding your tongue. No matter, the sensation of his thick digits roaming over the curve of your ass has you gasping enough against his mouth for him to coax you into a deeper kiss. Unbeknownst to you, your head tilts naturally, angling so that you can continue the kiss comfortably. You let go of his face, your fingers sliding into his long vermillion locks. There's a sound vibrating at the back of his throat that hits your ears so pleasantly - the simple soothing sensation of your hands in his hair delights him, so naturally he wants you to know it. The kiss builds heat, your body slowly beginning to want his hands to move beyond your backside. You lean into him, pressing your chest to his and linking your arms around his neck. The smile that curls his lips upward is something you can feel, and you almost smile back - but his hands that have now occupied a space on your hips are dragging your body over his lap. Ganondorf parts from your mouth, watching you bite your lip as he slowly grinds you over what you realize is his length beginning to grow rigid beneath you. Breaths slowly starting to come in shudders you snap your eyes shut, focusing on how his length slides teasingly over where you biologically know he's going to be soon enough.

"Do you feel me?" he purrs, dark tiger eyes trained on your flushed features, "Do you feel my want for you? My desire?" Your thighs are seeking one another to lock this feeling between them, but his hulking mass keeps them widely separated - your center at the mercy of his ministrations. Seeking purchase, your nails dig into his shoulders, earning a pleased rumble from the man. His lips find the hollow of your throat, easing pointed kisses and gentle bites to your sensitive flesh. Soft moans sound angelic to Ganondorf's ears; with ease he lifts you into his arms, your legs still very much wrapped as best as possible around his torso. Smooth, crimson silks caress your back as you're laid across the stretch of his bed. He doesn't stop kissing your body, only proceeds to move down it. Your collarbone, your nipples, the softness of your stomach: all places his lips tease and touch. He drinks your whines and whimpers in as though starving, an innate need to hear your voice call out to him ever growing. Still, he keeps slow. Rough finger pads glide down your body, stroking and fondling a pathway until he settles on his knees, with your legs splayed open by the sheer width of him. Those kisses that traveled now dot their way from your knee and inward. Your breath hitches, you know where he's going...you desperately want him there. As he reaches closer and closer, you shudder out, "P-Please...Gan..." Those initially amber slits, now ochre with hunger, slide up to see your face. Your cheeks are stained with reddish hues with your chest rising and falling faster than before.

"Is there something you need?" the timbre in his voice makes somewhere your stomach clench. How is it just his voice makes you feel this way? What kind of spell has he cast on you? Though your mind tries to wrack itself with answers, it always circles back to the lips that are nipping at your inner thighs. He places a kiss just close enough for you to feel his breath over your sex and you swallow thick with the gasp that tries to free itself.

"Your...mouth..." says you in a shaky whine, "Please..."

Like satin and fire, his chuckle is both suave but with the promise of something vile. A strong grip parts your legs further, holding you wide open. You try desperately not to look at how he drinks your nudeness in, fearing that you seeing the sheer lust flashing across his strong features will have you curl into yourself.

His mouth descends.

You gasp sharply.

Hot and wet is his tongue against your opening, circling your responsive flesh, his eyes never leaving your face. Ganondorf watches on as his silver tongue devours you, each lap and suck at you surging pleasure through your limbs. With one last scoop at your hole, he drew back. There was a question at your lips when you felt him retreat, but before you could even get a word out, you felt his finger carefully slide into you.

"A-Ah!" you mewled, then hissed. Given the size of him overall, even his fingers were substantial in filling you somewhat.

"Shhhhh," Ganondorf hushed your seizing frame. A hand came to your thigh, his thumb stroking in soothing circles the same time his opposite finger exited you, "Relax, my va'ina, you'll need to be much more open if you plan to take me." Your body shudders as you breathe, willing yourself to relax yourself in his ministrations. Having already gave you some slickness there, his finger meets less resistance than normal. His eyes roam your figure slowly, watching all of the small shivers and shakes that begin to build as his digit steadily works in and out of you. A spark of want pulses up your hips, with each coax of his finger you felt tiny rivulets of desire multiply inside you.

"Ganondorf..." came your gentle plea. This feeling was slowly starting to feel inadequate, your hips moving ever so slightly to try and chase the sensation of fullness. Chuckling at your urgency, the Gerudo chieftain withdraws his finger - adding another and sliding back into you. Eyelashes aflutter, you mewl at the sensation of being filled once more.

"There we are," he mused, smirking at the way you're snatching your bottom lip between your teeth. Gradually his fingers stretched you open, separating minutely as he fed your body each stroke. As soon as you had acclimated, you found yourself once again needing more. His hand, though making you feel good, was simply proving not to be enough. Ganondorf recognizes this as your features scrunch with some frustration. You need him, don't you? You need more than just two measly fingers to give you the passion that you seek.

"Your body seeks more than my current attentions I see," he says matter-of-factly, withdrawing his now very wet digits.

You turn your head away to blush, being read like an open book made your body burn with some embarrassment. Yet Ganondorf understood. He lifts your leg by your calf, pressing a kiss into the muscle there. "No worry, I'll give you everything you seek." He sits upright now, towering over your supine frame, a hand at each of your knees. You know what comes next, and though you tremble under him, there's a fire in those eyes of his that keeps you brave. Fingers descend upon his. He catches your gaze, doe-like and nervous, but no sign of withdrawal within them.

"You'll go slow, won't you?" you ask him, your heart mere seconds away from jumping out of your chest. There's an expectation for him to laugh at such an innocent, if not naïve question - but he surprises you when his hand takes your chin between two large fingers and keeps your eyes to his. Softness unlike you've ever seen in him stares back at you. "I wouldn't dream of bringing you harm, va'ina, you're safe with me." His words bring you comfort, allowing you shut your eyes in readied bliss. To reflect this, you spread your legs further apart, "Then I am yours, Ganondorf."

His lips find yours, hungry in its kiss. As his tongue melds against yours, he slips a hand down to grasp himself. You feel the slight shift of his body on yours, strong thighs flush to the backs of yours. He parts from the kiss, though his face remains close, "Ready?" Unable to trust your voice, you simply nod. His muscular frame surrounds your body, encasing you in his warmth. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you inhale sharply when he presses into you. Considerable length and girth stretch you far more than his fingers could even attempt. He's slow, methodical in his pace. So much so that he stops, just past the head of him, the second you tense in his arms.

"Breathe..." coaches Ganondorf, his voice showing the tiniest hint of strain. Though shaky, you try to follow his advice, and it calms your body enough for him to advance. Your mouth drops open from the pressure, hands gripping his shoulders for purchase as another inch fills you. The man above pecks loving kisses to your face as he sneaks a hand downward. He revels in the pleased gasp you let out when his fingers stroke your sex, "That's it...open up for me..." With him steadily plunging into your depths and the deliberate tease of his hand at your most sensitive area, you recognize that same spark from earlier.

Want. Need.

He slides in further still, about at halfway down the whole of him now. His hand doesn't relent on your flesh, easing over you with the intent to build the ecstasy he knows you're absentmindedly chasing. Ganondorf has every intention to bring you to rapture, but again - at your pace. There's a tremor in your thighs that shakes against his hips, he gives you more of him; but the noise you let out this time is a moan muffled only by the barrier of your bitten lip. He grins at this, supply your body with just a bit more. No reaction this time - you were getting used to him. His fingers stroke you for a few more counts, this being just enough for you to take him all the way to the hilt. You keen slightly, so impossibly full and almost dizzy from how overwhelmingly large he feels inside of you.

"Stay with me, love" he whispers, his opposite thumb stroking your cheek. The deep octave of his voice and the tender caress soothe you enough to lean into his touch. Ganondorf captures your lips once more, this kiss slower than the last. His hips remain still though his tongue ravages your mouth, and it pulls a licentious moan from you; the knowledge of him locked deep inside you as he kisses you so fervently has you yearning for what you know you want most. His mouth moves into your neck, and without hesitation your fingers bury into his fiery mane. There's a slight withdrawal of his hips, and you welcome the feeling now, the minor shift of friction feeding into a feeling at the most basic level of your instincts.

"More," your quivered voice speaks in his ear, "P-Please."

He's touched at your politeness, though it's unnecessary. You are a being to be worshipped in this regard, though you didn't realize it, you would never need to beg from him. Touching his forehead to your own, Ganondorf rumbles deep in his chest, pulling almost all of the way out of you before sliding all the way back in. "Nnngh, yes..." Ah, all he needed to hear. Adept hands place themselves at two points: a fist near your head for steadying, and a hand bracing underneath your back to keep you there. Leisurely, shallow thrusts easily evolved into deep, harder strokes. Your body would transform - blossom from tightly wound and tense to fully open and wanting.

The Gerudo male knows you're fully spellbound by your lovemaking when your nails begin to bite into the muscle of his shoulder blades - a most welcome pinch of pain. He's fully working you into you now, his hips immovable pistons to fuck you fully now. Your sweet and soft moans were climbing in crescendo, his name tumbling in slurred syllables off your honey covered tongue. Unable to stop himself now, Ganondorf growled into the junction of your neck and shoulder, pulling your body as flush to him as he could.

"Ah, ohh, mmf! Ahhhh G-Gan," you whined, clinging to him, "My body's on fire...I nghh I...!"

He feels you tightening around him, his pants are harsh as they dampen your skin, "Let it happen...let me have all of you." With only a few strokes of him you fall apart in a scream, your body winding up impossibly tight and then loosening entirely. The orgasmic pulse of your slickness around him milks him with an ungodly grip. He fucks you as fast as your body will allow, a few resounding claps against your flesh combining with the cries of your slight overstimulation that finally bring him to his own end. His strong fingers dig into you as he cums, hot and fast, in a wildly indecent roar. Your hands hold him in his place on your body, welcoming every drop of the licentious liquid that he spills inside of you. His hips begin to slow, still sliding in and out of your now sopping hole, and though you were already long finished, you moan at the sensation of his cock pulsing and feeding your body even now.

When he finally can take no more, he pulls from you entirely in a rough grunt. You feel the weeping of his seed from your entrance, but you are far too exhausted to care. Your body hums in pleasured bliss, but your limbs, so worn from a use you'd yet to experience until today, feel akin to lead. Never an issue, however, as Ganondorf carefully maneuvers you both so you can rest comfortably: with you at his side. His fingers traced the curves and lines of your body in silence, your hand and head rest at his chest.

"Gan...?" your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes lazily move to you. Your heart flutters with candid bravery, "...I love you."

He smiles at this. Fitting words for a connection as deep as this. His hand covers your head, pressing you closer to his chest in a protective maneuver. Ganondorf is anything but vulnerable...but even a man as mighty as he isn't incapable of feeling.

"You have my heart, va'ina. You are mine as I am yours."

You hum contentedly, happy to fall asleep in the arms of the man who loved you.

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: The tunnel has to be dug and the jewels stolen, or else Charlie will be lost to them forever.

Word Count: 5,806

Notes: Warnings for depictions of panic attacks and sexual content and references to kidnapping and violence.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 25: In the Dirt

The tires squealed as Tommy brought the car to a hard stop just beside the campsite Johnny Dogs and the clay kickers had set up around the entrance to the tunnel. Lucy could see Johnny standing, approaching the car with a puzzled expression.

“Take off your coat, suit jacket, holster, and waistcoat,” Tommy ordered her. She nodded, undoing the buttons with shaky fingers, tossing the garments into the backseat. They climbed out of the car in a flurry, Tommy still undoing the buttons on his blue shirt as they approached the large hole opened up within the ground. Johnny shouted questions after them as Tommy relayed the situation to him, but they ignored him. 

At the sight of the hole, Lucy felt her chest tighten with nerves. It was big enough so that one fully grown man could climb in and out at a time, illuminated by orange-yellow light from lanterns and lights attached to the walls to illuminate the descent.

“You have any trouble, or you start to feel panicky, you come straight back up here and wait with Johnny Dogs,” Tommy told her, and while the sternness of the order was there, his voice was gentle. She nodded. 

“Yes, sergeant major,” she whispered, wondering to herself if this was how he had spoken to his men back in France. 

No wonder he had won all those medals. 

He gave her arm a little squeeze, stepping past her to begin lowering himself down into the hole. She gulped. A little ways down, he looked up at her, and must have seen the apprehension on her face. 

“You’re going to be fine.”

She nodded, wondering to herself why the fuck she had ever insisted on this. Johnny held out a hand for her to balance herself with as she stepped into the hole, her foot finding the first of many steps in a ladder against one wall. 

She kept her eyes focused straight ahead on the dirt wall in front of her, trying to occupy her mind with finding each step in the ladder, and not how she was lowering deeper and deeper into the earth. 

It was almost working until they hit the bottom. 

There was just enough space for them both to stand, dim lanterns flickering, the only thing keeping them from being plunged into complete and total darkness.

She felt herself start to shake a little as she took in the sight of the tunnel, already extending far, far into the distance. A dark, yawning abyss of pure blackness if not for the lights attached intermediately to the beams constructed to keep the tunnel from collapsing. 

It was tiny and low enough that they would have to crawl on their stomachs to fit. She was small enough she could maybe fit at a small crouch. 

Maybe. 

Just the idea of those dark walls around her made her heartbeat pick up, breaths coming in shallowly. The scent of wet earth all around them wasn’t helping. She squeezed her eyes shut, but a moment away from darting back up the ladder they’d just descended on. 

Behind her eyelids, memories of waking up to the crushing sensation of the weight of earth pressing down on her danced before her. Dirt in her mouth and nose, digging painfully under her fingernails as she scratched and scrambled at it. Trying to dig herself out. Already in so much agony from the wounds inflicted on her during the attack that had left her assailants believing she was dead.  

“You alright?” Tommy asked, hand on her arm, and his voice broke through the memory. She opened her eyes with a sharp gasp. The blue of Tommy’s eyes helped, and she made herself focus on that. Not the dirt around them. 

Certainly not how eerily similar it all felt to being buried alive. 

She took a deep breath, getting herself back under control, stuffing the panic down, and nodded. 

He must have seen the resolution in her eyes, because he nodded back, and held out a rag to her. 

“Tie this around your face, so it’s covering your nose and mouth.”

She did as instructed. It helped a little against the triggering scent of damp earth. 

“Take this,” he held out a pickaxe to her. She clutched it in a white knuckled grip. “Follow me,” he glanced back to the tunnel. “Do what I do.”

She nodded, clenching her jaw against the panic in her chest. She could do this. 

She could do this for Charlie. 

Tommy touched her chin gently. “I’m right here with you.” 

That sentiment made her feel a little better. She would be okay so long as he was nearby. 

Watching him crouch down and start to wriggle and crawl his way through the tunnel, she made herself pay close attention to his movements, focusing on mimicking them. Stooping down, she took a deep breath, and started to crawl in after him. 

It surprised her how warm she soon felt as they scrambled their way to where the other tunnelers were, the heat of the lamps and the physical exertion causing sweat to bead down her back. They came to a space a little bigger than the rest of the tunnel, where they were able to crouch as Tommy talked to William, debriefing him on the change in plans. 

The walls felt like they were closing in, tightening like a vice around her. She squeezed the pickaxe, feeling her throat constricting with panic. When William and Tommy started moving through the tunnel again, she soldiered on through the terror, and followed them. 

Finally, after what felt like a century, they came to the end of the tunnel. Tommy had removed his shirt at some point, his bare chest, abdomen, and back already covered in a layer of dirt. 

“We dug a sinkhole to drain the clay, like you said,” William said, wiping mud from his face. “So long as we don’t hit anymore and we work fast, we can get it dug in time,” he shot a glance Lucy’s way. “Good thing you brought her. Timothy came down with the shakes a few hours ago and I had to send him back up to rest. He was useless down here,” he narrowed his eyes at her. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Tommy gave me instructions on the drive here. And I’m a fast learner,” she was momentarily proud of how steady her voice sounded. 

William nodded. “Best get started, then.”

“Come here,” Tommy beckoned her, and she wriggled closer to him. She was small enough that they were able to fit side by side despite the narrowness of the tunnel. She watched for a moment while Tommy started to dig, adjusting her hands on the pickaxe to mimic his movements before taking her first swing at the dirt. “Distance your hands a bit more,” Tommy said, still scraping at the dirt. She did as he said. “Good.”

She still felt like she was having a panic attack, but having something to actually focus on doing helped. She was able to lose herself a little in the repetitive swings, the movements helping to displace some of the shakiness in her muscles. Fear still squeezed upon her from all sides, like the walls of the very tunnel that caused it, but she worked through it. Her legs burned from staying crouched for so long, but she needed the added strength from her legs to assist her movements. 

Later, she would look back on the whole thing with awe towards Tommy in how he handled everything. It was incredible to watch him work, and a shame that in the moment they were both so frantic and rushed that she hadn’t been able to properly appreciate watching him work: muscles flexing, movements, though frenzied, controlled and deliberate. He knew what he was doing, and he was good at it. 

It made her feel a little stupid to have even insisted on coming down there. Not just because she could easily tip over the edge into panic-induced uselessness at any moment, but because, in all honesty, he probably didn’t really need her. 

He could have dug the whole damn tunnel by himself in record time, if he’d had to. 

Behind them, William started to shout, and she turned to find one of the men curled on the ground, shaking violently. Tommy bellowed over his shoulder for William to get the man out, and he began to half drag him back the way they’d come. 

A very large part of her wished that she could have followed them. 

Dirt had caked all over her, turning her thin white shirt nearly entirely brown. Her face was covered in it, and it had stained her hands and dug underneath her fingernails.

She shuddered at the memories that particular feeling brought up.

Tommy accidentally jostled her a little, and her shoulder bumped into a wall. She recoiled from it with a small whine, having been doing the best she could to avoid touching any of the walls of the tunnel. It just reminded her how tiny of a space they were all squeezed into. 

“Sorry,” he grunted. She shook her head, mumbling that it was alright. 

It was hard to gauge how long it took William to return to them. Time seemed to have lost all meaning. She wasn’t sure what hour it was. Could they already be too late?

She doubled her efforts. Behind them, William was urging Tommy to slow down a little when a groan sounded above their heads, the entire tunnel seeming to shudder, and she could hear water running somewhere. For the first time since she’d really started digging, she looked around at the walls of dirt encasing them. She’d been trying to keep her eyes focused only in front of her, rather than taking in how truly tiny the space was. Her teeth sank into the side of her mouth to hold in a whimper, snapping her head down, imagining herself somewhere safe. Somewhere open and wide, like a meadow. 

No, no, that wasn’t helping. All it did was remind her just how small and cramped the tunnel truly was. 

William was saying something to Tommy about the dirt being too wet, but Tommy just shouted back at him. The strain in his voice was enough to shake Lucy from the downward spiral of anxiety she’d been set on, head turning to focus on him. He’d moved back to dragging away at the dirt, and she slowly inched her way closer to him. Their sides brushed, and that seemed to help them both; Tommy let out a small breath, and she felt herself relax just a fraction at the feeling of him strong and solid beside her. 

“How are you doing?”

The rough sound of his voice surprised her. Other than him shouting orders to the men every once in a while, they’d barely spoken. 

“I wish I’d gone with Michael to kill Hughes,” she had to clear her throat before she could get the words out, her voice hoarse from lack of use. 

He made a small snorting sound through the material of the rag still tied around his face. “We’re almost there.”

She didn’t ask him how he knew. 

It felt like they’d been digging for hours upon hours, but at the same time like it only took a few more minutes, when on the next plunge of Tommy’s shovel, they heard a dull, clanging sound. 

“What was that?”

“We’ve hit the wall of the treasury.”

She could have wept from joy. 

“William, dynamite,” Tommy ordered over his shoulder, then turned to her. “Move back.”

She did as she was told, scrambling backwards. She watched him lodge a stick of explosives into the wall, backing up after her with the coil connecting it to the detonator trailing the distance between them and the dynamite. Once he deemed them far enough, he fiddled with the button on the detonator. 

“Get ready.”

She pressed her hands over her ears, turning her face away. Tommy shifted, until he was half over her, practically shielding her from the impending explosion with his body. She pressed herself closer to him. 

Despite being a good deal away, the bang from the explosion when he pressed the detonator made her ears ring. A puff of loose dirt was blown directly into their faces, and the entire tunnel seemed to shake and buckle with the force of it. It had barely cleared when Tommy was half dragging her with him by the hand towards the newly formed, gaping hole. 

A little sob left her lips at the familiar sight of the interior of the Russian treasury. She hopped out of the damned tunnel after Tommy, feeling for the first time like she could breathe normally in the wide-open space. 

But there wasn’t any time to enjoy it. Not yet.

“Grab what you can,” Tommy said, already rifling through the boxes of jewels. Lucy followed suit, pulling a few cloth bags from the pocket of her trousers and stuffing them with as many precious stones as she could get her hands on. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the boxes of gems that had been selected by clients or friends of the Russians. She grabbed theirs, plus a few more, and raced back to the entrance to the tunnel. Tommy helped boost her back into it, and climbed in right behind her.

“Go, go, go,” William urged, pressing himself flush against one of the walls so they could scramble past him. Lucy kept her eyes trained on the far end of the tunnel, slowly growing nearer.

So close. 

The walls still felt like they were crushing in on her, as if they could collapse in on her and keep her down there in the dark, wet mud forever.          

But she’d survived being trapped underneath the ground once before. She could do it again. 

Her hands locked around the first rungs of the ladder, hauling herself up as fast as she could. The muscles in her arms and legs trembled, and she had to clench her fingers tight or else risk falling. 

Up above, she could see the flickering light of a lantern. 

Her head burst through the entrance of the tunnel, and all it took was the first kiss of cool fresh air on her face to have her bursting into tears, scrambling, like a trapped rat in a box, to pull herself the rest of the way out of the hole. Her bags of jewels dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and she crawled, the feeling of soft green grass under her dirt-caked palms only making her cry harder. She collapsed to the side of the hole, fatigued muscles finally giving into exhaustion. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she curled into a ball of hysterics, weeping and hiccuping uncontrollably as she finally allowed her mind to release the terror that had been building within it during the hours she’d been under the ground.

Somewhere near the entrance to the hole, she heard thumping, and then the low grunts of someone else pulling themselves from the abyss. And then there was weight, warm and gentle, against her back, as a figure collapsed beside her, somehow finding enough energy to purposefully wrap himself around her in comfort despite his own exhaustion. 

Tommy gripped her tight, hand fumbling to pull the rag still wrapped around her nose and mouth down so she could breath more easily, then hugging her.

“Shh, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s done now. It’s done. You’re okay,” he started to whisper in her ear. 

Her breathing was hard, coming out in tiny gasps that made it feel almost as though she wasn’t breathing at all. But even as she continued to cry and buried her face in her arms, he kept talking to her.   

“It’s alright. You did good. You did so fucking good, Lucy. I’m so proud of you,” his hand smoothed over her head, kissing her temple despite the dirt still covering them both. Little by little, she started to calm down, breathing returning mostly to normal and tears drying up. 

“Mm. There you go,” Tommy purred, dirty face tucking into her neck. “That’s my girl,” he gave her a small squeeze. “We’ve got to go. Can you stand?”

Her nod was weak, and her muscles practically screamed in complaint when she started to move, but she ignored them, unfolding her limbs and pushing up off of the ground to drag herself to her feet. It felt like it took all of her strength just to do that. 

Tommy pulled himself up with her, a hand hovering at her back to catch her in case her legs gave out. Once he was sure she was stable, he plucked up the bags of jewels they’d both dumped near the entrance to the tunnel. Grabbing her hand, he led her towards where the car was still parked on the outskirts of the camp, a few orders to rest and then commence work on filling in the hole mumbled to Johnny Dogs and William as they passed them. He grabbed a fresh shirt to pull over his dirt-covered torso.  

Her steps were a little shaky and unsteady, and when she finally was able to plop down in the passenger seat, she swore she could have melted right into the leather of the seats. 

“Where are we going?” her voice was slurred with exhaustion as Tommy started up the car and flicked on the headlights.

“There’s a phonebooth a little up the road.”

“Mm,” she hummed, trying to wipe the dried dirt off of her face with little success.

“Come here,” he wrapped his arm around her while he drove, letting her pillow her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I made you take me down there with you,” she wetted her dry lips, then cringed at the taste of dirt in her mouth. 

“Why?” Tommy sounded truly baffled. 

“You didn’t need me. You could have dug the whole tunnel yourself if you had to. You didn’t need my help.”

He shook his head. “I think you’re a little delirious with exhaustion, love,” his thumb rubbed her shoulder. “Believe me, you helped. With Timothy already out of commission, we needed another person. And besides,” he kissed her forehead. “You kept me sane down there.

She gave him a look, and he chuckled.

“Okay, somewhat sane.”

Her chest spasmed with a tiny laugh. “I don’t ever wanna do something like that again.”

Tommy hummed in agreement. “You did well with not panicking.”

“Oh, I was panicking. I just found a way to keep working despite it.”

He hummed in understanding, pulling the car to a stop by a phone booth on the side of the road. Grabbing his coat, he pulled it on, checking to make sure he still had change in the pocket. 

“This will only take a minute.”

She swallowed hard. It was painful with how parched her throat was. “You don’t think that we’re too late…?”

“It’s not past five yet,” but the look on his face told her he wasn’t wholly convinced. She fiddled with her fingers as she watched him get out of the car, then decided that despite how exhausted she was, she couldn’t take just sitting there and waiting for him to report back to her. Heaving herself up, she stepped from the car and followed him into the phone booth. He shot her a look like he wasn’t at all surprised that she’d followed him, and angled the phone so that she could hear what was said on the other end. 

“Hello?”

“Ada? It’s me,” he cleared his throat. “I’ve got the jewels. Is…”

“Tommy!” Ada shouted into the receiver. “Tommy, it’s alright! Michael…Michael got him back! Charlie’s okay! He’s right here!”

A strangled sob broke from Lucy’s lips. Tommy’s entire body seemed to relax, slumping a little. 

“Let me speak to him.”

Reaching out, Lucy grabbed a handful of his shirt to keep herself anchored. There was fumbling on the other end of the phone, and then a high, happy little voice chirped on the other end.

“Daddy?”

“Hello, Charlie,” Tommy grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges at the sound of his son’s voice. Lucy sobbed again as she listened to him babble excitedly to his father through the receiver. He didn’t sound upset or traumatized. Just happily chattering about his ‘adventure’ he’d been on with his cousin Michael.

“Lucy?” he asked suddenly, and she could practically picture it: his big blue eyes looking around curiously.

“I’m right…I’m right here, kiddo,” she said into the receiver, voice catching with emotion. Tommy wrapped an arm around her waist. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart? Are you okay?”  

“Tired,” Charlie mumbled. There was mumbling in the distance on the other end. “Auntie Ada says bedtime now.” 

“Yeah, you go to bed. Good boy,” Tommy said. There was shuffling, and then Ada’s voice was back on the phone.

“He really is alright. Just tired from all the excitement, I think. I was going to take him back to Arrow House. I’ll stay with him until you and Lucy get back.”

“Yes, alright,” Tommy agreed. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Hughes is dead.”

“Good,” Lucy hissed out, silently lamenting that she hadn’t gotten to watch the disgusting fuck die with her own eyes.

“We’ll talk more when we get back,” Tommy said, and hung up the phone.

They both sighed at the same time, arms going around each other, practically holding the other up considering how their combined release of tension and worry seemed to drain them of all their remaining strength. She could feel Tommy sobbing hard, burying his face in her hair while he clutched her to him. She buried her face in his chest, crying out her own relief. 

Their baby was safe. He was safe. He was okay. They weren’t going to lose him too. 

Sniffling, Tommy raised his head, a hand raising to cup her cheek, forehead landing on hers.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, both to him and to herself.

“I couldn’t have lived through this without you.”

She shook her head in disagreement, and he tightened his hands on her hips and kissed her, quick but deep. He tasted as he always did: of cigarettes and whiskey. But this time, there was the undeniable tang of dirt intermixed with the other two. 

“Mm,” when they broke away she wrinkled her nose.

“What?”

“We both desperately need a bath.”

He laughed, dropping his face into her shoulder, then nodding in agreement, taking her hand and leading the way out of the phone booth and into the car. 

She looked down at her ruined shirt and trousers, completely caked with mud. Angling the rearview mirror, she cringed at the sight of the face that looked back at her. Her entire face was nearly covered in dried mud, her red hair stringy with it and dried sweat. 

She had to smell positively foul.

Replacing the rear view mirror, she resolved not to look at herself again until after she was able to bathe. 

“Try to sleep a little, if you’d like,” Tommy urged as he started up the car. 

“I’m afraid if I do, I’ll wind up sleeping for a solid two days before you’ll be able to wake me up again,” even as she said it, she was snuggling into his side, laying her head on him. 

Tommy chuckled, putting his arm around her. 

∗ ∗ ∗

They stopped at the house in Small Heath to get cleaned up. No one else was there, so they had the place to themselves. Lucy put together two plates of bread, cheese, and fruit from the pantry for them to snack on while he heated water to pour into one of the tubs they still had downstairs, even though no one really actually lived there anymore. Pulling his ruined, dirt-stained clothes from his body, Tommy grimaced, tossing them into a pile to go into the trash, thankful that he still kept a couple spare suits there for emergencies. 

He groaned lowly at the soothing effect that the warm water had on his sore muscles as he sank into the tub, eagerly scrubbing away the dirt clinging to his skin. Lucy came in a moment later, setting a handful of towels down on a table. He watched her move around the room lazily. Even covered in mud, she was still beautiful. 

“Love,” he said, recognizing her fussing movements as a manifestation of anxiety. “Come here.”

Those big green eyes fixed on him widely, her pale, freckled hand sliding into his, letting him pull her closer to the edge of the tub. He dragged her down until her mouth slanted over his, a hand on the back of her neck to gently hold her in place. 

“Get in,” he whispered huskily.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Tommy, I love you, but I am way too tired for sex right now–”

He chuckled, brushing his lips temptingly across hers again. “No, I know,” he dragged his nose down along the length of her shoulder. “Let me wash your back.”

She smiled a little at the offer, fingers already raising to start undoing the buttons on her shirt. Tommy wet his lips as he watched her strip out of her dirty clothes, holding out a hand to help steady her as she stepped into the tub, then wrapping his arms around her when she lowered to sit in front of him, back to his chest. 

“Mm…” he groaned in appreciation at the comforting weight of holding her in his arms, gently sliding his hands across her skin to help wash away the dried dirt. She hummed, muscles relaxing as he set about tenderly messaging her. He knew all too well just how sore a night of digging could make the muscles.

“Lean forward?” he requested in a whisper in her ear. She did, and as promised, he cleaned the dirt off her back, then scrubbed her hair for her, careful not to tug on it too hard as he coaxed the dried dirt in it to loosen up and dissipate into the water. When he was done, she curled up on his chest, fingers idly tracing the lines of the tattoo there. 

With all the touching, and her warm and soft and bare against him, his cock had stirred awake beneath the water, twitching with eagerness. He tried to think it down; she was exhausted and had said she wasn’t up for that right now. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel pressured. 

She made a small noise, face scrunching as she cracked one eye open to look at him in mock sternness when his erection unintentionally bumped against her back. 

“I thought I said no funny business, Shelby,” but there was no real bite to her words. He shot her a sheepish look. 

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

She just hummed, not seeming particularly perturbed, stretching out against him. “Let me get your hair for you.”

The tub wasn’t really meant for two people, and it took a fair amount of maneuvering despite neither of them being particularly tall to get repositioned in a way that allowed her to rub the lingering dirt out of his hair. 

Tommy let his eyes fall closed, her gentle little fingers massaging into his scalp seemed to soothe nearly all the residual tension he was still carrying. He could have purred, curling in closer to her. If he wasn’t careful, he could have fallen asleep like that, his head on her chest while she stroked his hair and held him. It was one of his favorite places to be. 

“We should head back home soon,” she murmured, though she made no move to get out. Opening his eyes, Tommy lifted his head enough to kiss her. She sighed into his mouth, both hands landing on his shoulders while he lifted himself up, bracing his hands at either side of her on the rim of the tub while he deepened the kiss. Water sloshed around them, dangerously close to spilling onto the floor.    

The scalp massage had not helped at all on the ‘don’t have an erection’ front, his twitching cock pressing unintentionally into her stomach. He winced back a little, though her hands coming to rest on his face didn’t let him get very far.  

“Sorry, sorry, I know you don’t want to right now…” 

“It’s alright,” she bumped her nose with his. So close to her face like this, he could distinctly see the large, dark circles under her eyes, and while those big green orbs were alight with usual warmth and brightness, he could see the exhaustion lurking just beneath. Pecking her chastly on the cheek, he dropped his head to rest on her clavicle, arms going around her waist.

“I love you so much,” he murmured into her damp skin, hoping that she understood how deeply he meant it. His love for her was something embedded into his very being, making up bits of his bone and blood. There was not any world, and scenario, that he could envision where he didn’t love her. 

Soft like a whisper, like a secret shared in the darkest part of night, she stroked his back. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

His eyes fluttered, throat suddenly constricting at the nickname. No one else had ever called him that; only her.

He hoped that one day he would actually be deserving of it. 

The hand on his back trailed down his spine, curling over one of his hips. “Do you want me to…?” she started to offer, but he shook his head. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“No,” he lifted his head to meet her eyes. “No, don’t apologize. It’s okay. Really,” he gave her a small smile. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later, after we’ve actually rested.”

As if on cue, she shielded a yawn with her hand. He chuckled, kissing her temple. 

“Can’t have you falling asleep on me in the middle of fucking, can I? It would do terrible things to my ego.”

She giggled, face falling into his neck. Tommy genuinely smiled at the sound, basking for a moment in being the one to have caused it. He nuzzled at her hair, squeezing his arms around her. 

“Shall we get out?”

She nodded, and with one arm around her and the other balancing on the edge of the tarnished and worn bathtub, he lifted them both out of the water. Droplets washed off of them in streams, dripping back into the tub.

They toweled off, then hastily got dressed. Lucy had kept a few spare clothes around as well, enough to make her presentable enough at least. When she reached out to straighten his coat, he let his hands fall on top of hers, running his thumb along her knuckles. She curled her fingers around his, smiling against his lips when he stooped to kiss her again. 

“Come on,” squeezing her hand, he led the way back outside and to the car. The drive to Arrow House was quiet, Lucy dozing a little against his side. It was fully bright out by the time they pulled up to the front door, car jostling a little as he parked it and shut off the engine. Lucy hopped out and he followed her, Ada meeting them at the door.

“Where is he?” Tommy asked, trying to keep his eager desperation to see his son hidden. 

“He’s upstairs,” Ada said, and he nodded. He and Lucy managed a normal gait as they walked past her, and to the stairs, but the second his feet hit the first step–and he was sure his sister wasn’t watching–he broke into a run, taking the steps two at a time. He could hear Lucy hot on his heels behind him, and within one breath and the next they were up the stairs and racing down the hall to the nursery. 

He swung into the room, and Mary was there, crouched down beside a pile of toys on the floor. And seated on that floor, his little hands locked around a toy wooden train, was Charlie.

He ignored the housekeeper completely as he swept into the room, hardly even aware of her hastily excusing herself to give him, Lucy, and Charlie a moment together. He was too focused on scooping his boy into his arms, lifting him up.

Charlie made a little sound of disagreement when Tommy pulled him away from the train set, but he settled quickly once he was pressed against Tommy’s chest. One of his little hands rested on the collar of his coat. Cradling the back of his head, Tommy hugged Charlie to him fiercely, eyes squeezing shut at the weight of his baby held safe to him. 

All the emotion he’d been keeping safely locked away inside his heart since learning that Charlie was safe came pouring out in a rush, and he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. There was warmth against his side, Lucy hugging both him and their son.

“My baby…” Tommy heard himself whisper, pressing a kiss to his boy’s chubby little cheek. Charlie was soaking up all the sudden attention like a sponge, grinning when Lucy kissed his forehead. Tommy hugged him tighter, unable to fathom how, after everything that had just happened, he was ever expected to let his baby boy go again.    

“Daddy, you’re squeezing me,” Charlie complained after a moment, wriggling a little. Tommy let out a quiet laugh, loosening his grip slightly so he wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Sorry, son.”

But Charlie just snuggled into his neck with a coo. The hand not on Tommy’s collar reached out to pat at Lucy’s hair, and she giggled tearfully, catching his tiny palm in hers, letting him wrap it around one of her fingers. 

“Lulu,” he said. 

“Hi, honey,” Lucy stretched up to kiss his nose. “I’m so happy to see you,” the back of her hand stroked his cheek. “You daddy and I were so worried about you.”

Charlie looked between them quizzically, as if not quite understanding. Good. Better that he didn’t. At least not until he was much, much older. 

Lucy gave a small tug to the sleeve of Tommy’s coat. “Let’s go sit down.”

He nodded, adjusting Charlie in his arms and following her to a chaise they had pushed up against the far wall. Grace used to sit there or in the rocking chair all the time when she was still nursing. The three of them curled up on it, Charlie settled in his lap and Lucy nestled into his side. 

All three of them finally together, and safe.     

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

[revasserium]

fear every raindrop

sasuke; 837 words; fluff and angst but mostly just atmospheric-ness. for @dira333

sasuke has always loved the rain; it has always spoken to him in ways the cloudless blues of a sunstruck sky could never (but he’s certain naruto could have). he has always understood the thick rumble of a horizon line jagged with thunder; he has always appreciated the deep sorrow of each tiny raindrop, which together can form a torrent so large it has the power to drown out a whole village. because he understands sorrow — if nothing else.

and his whole life has been loss, hasn’t it? a constant and immutable stream of losing, of waking each morning wondering what else the world will take today, and going to sleep each night knowing the answer is — always more than you think.

he meets you on a rainy day.

outside a way station, beside a dirt road that seems to run parallel to the turning world, he catches you falling — actually falling, slipping on a patch of mud. his single arm bars across your chest, knocking the wind from you even as you wheeze, your nose nearly catching the drenched earth beneath you.

“careful,” he says, his voice soft as he helps you straighten again. and one glance at you tells him that you’re the furthest thing from a ninja a person could be: innocent. it shines through you like a beacon, beckons to him like a lighthouse on a deserted shore and he finds himself irrevocably drawn to you — a magnet to his compass rose, the moon’s pull to the tide’s endless flow.

“th-thanks! sorry…” you laugh, ducking your head into a short, awkward sort of bow as you straighten to peer up at him through your rain-slicked bangs. he fights the urge to look away.

“are you…”

sasuke bites back a wince for the words he knows will come, the curiosity, the realization, and then — inevitably — the accusation. he braces for it.

and…

“are you hungry?”

sasuke blinks.

you’re grinning up at him, not a single thread of apprehension in sight as you lace your fingers behind your back and motion towards the thin strip of forest path.

“my family owns a ramen place in the town just over this hill — i was running an errand, but i got caught in the rain — thank god you were here to save me!” your smile is bright, so bright and defiantly so against the gloom of the weather above you. the rain has yet to abate but sasuke thinks that he doesn’t mind. your smile is more than enough to shelter him from the storm.

“ah…” he doesn’t know what to say, because no one had ever trained him for this, not in the delicate dance of propriety, not in the precarious balance between casual jest and incrimination. he finds that he has no tools in his arsenal for this, but then —

“c’mon, my treat. it’s the least i can do for my savior!”

savior.

he savors that word, basks in the halcyon glow of his warmth, wishes he could sink his fingers into the heart of its brightness, tip it back into his mouth and swallow it whole. he wishes it was something that, someday, he might be truly deemed to be.

it is not as good as irchiraku’s. but then again, very few things are. though, you make up for it in your animated ramblings, in the way you introduce him to the sweet-faced woman behind the counter as you brush through the doorway of the tiny ramen shop, in the way you crouch down to scritch a fat orange cat behind the ears, stepping aside so he can offer his own hand for the cat to sniff and inspect.

the fat, orange cat levels him with a severe sort of gaze before it slumps back down and opens his mouth his great, big yawn.

“i think he likes you!”

sasuke can only nod, shaking his bangs out to cover his eyes, hiding behind that one last bastion of darkness as you lead him to a back table.

it is not as good as ichiraku’s… but he finds himself hesitant to leave all the same.

outside, the storm still brews, thick and angry just beyond the tops of those faraway trees.

“you should stay till the storm blows out — it’s dangerous to go wandering in this weather!”

sasuke almost laughs, because when was the last time someone had ever put him and danger in the same sentence without the implied causation? when was the last time someone had warned him of the danger, instead of warning of the danger of him?

he drinks his soup slowly, polishing off whole bowl with a soft exhale.

the sweet-faced woman smiles wide as she peers into his empty bowl.

“would you like seconds?”

sasuke sets down his chopsticks.

“please.”

it’s not as good as ichiraku’s but… it’s still the best ramen he’s had in years.

[introloves]

🦷: Okayy but daddy Iwa leaving his baby with mattsun while he’s gone like bo does and mattsun taking such good care of iwa’s little girl,,and if mattsun can’t Iwa will reluctantly leave her w makki who’s so much meaner 🥺🥺

— dom! matsukawa + sub space + teasing + mentions of pain + predator/prey dynamics + slight hair pulling + mentions of fear + masochist reader + size kink + dacryphilia + big dick + heavy breath play + choking + praise + creampie + petname (bunny) + f! reader

— word count: 2.6k

he looked her over, unable to stop the smirk from forming. shy eyes made his chest swell in a primal swirl of lust. already so sweet for him, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

“y/n.”

“hm?” your voice answered back in a small hum, cute and shy. he couldn’t help but let a shiver crawl up his back at the thought of how you’d sound broken and whining just like that for him.

but he was being too forward, no wonder why iwaizumi had asked to leave you in his care- you were dangerously alluring.

you were here to be taken care of, and what he wanted might not match up to what you wanted, he’d test the waters first.

grabbing your hand gently, making sure to not startle you all too bad- letting you know it was okay, there was nothing to be embarrassed or shy about; the plan was set out, in detail- by hajime.

the thought of leaving you alone while he joined his team out of the country wasn't something he liked to entertain- you were supposed to be taken care of at all times, even when he couldn't. that's why this arrangement was drawn up. it was something mattsun could do.

he led you to his room, motioning to where the bathroom, kitchen- where all the necessities were. his house was small; enough for him and now for you, it was where you would be staying at… and you were grateful.

“its not much… but its comfortable.” the tone and smoothness of his voice eased you further- the slowly oscillating timbre of notes made you melt.

you nodded, smiling a little, bending your head in appreciation.

it squeezed at his heart, the way you were so polite and kind, a sweet little thing he couldn’t believe belonged to iwaizumi.

it made sense, you’d made the comment on how you liked men that could protect, men who would put you on your knees by just a look… and he so deeply hoped he fit that criteria.

in private, you knew he was- he was tall and big, taller than your hajime, maybe not as thick, not as built, but his presence still made your knees shake.

you let yourself watch him from the corner of your eyes, watching him walk forward, settling down the bag he’d taken from you on his bed… in all honesty, you’d seen his couch- and someone as big as him would not have a pleasant time sleeping on it… but you didn't know where he was going to draw the line.

you’d hope he’d stay, hope he’d cuddle you and make you feel good… sleeping alone was not familiar to you.

being alone was an ugly thought, it was exhausting and horrible. being spoiled made you greedy and needy- all in one. a pretty thing iwa was proud of, always showing you off.

you needed someone, and you wholly agreed to be pretty and good for issei.

“okay bunny.” he sighed, sitting down at the edge of the bed, looking at you.

the petname sent little prickles of heat down your back, making you dizzy and complaint, it triggered a nice and comfy haze clouding your mind.

“time for bed?” he asked, watching the slow blink of your eyes, chest rising and falling slowly- slipping into that sweet headspace.

oh…

iwaizumi really had you trained well.

he was going to have so much fun with you.

“what do you want, pretty girl.” issei questioned, leaning forwards elbows on his thighs; looking at you like a good meal, something he was very eagerly waiting to take a bite out of- lower lip glistening with saliva as he passed his thick tongue over it.

it made you take a step forward, a pretty bunny falling right into the claws of something big and mean- being devoured came easiest for you.

“take care of me.” you whispered, placing two shaky hands on his shoulders. broad frame, nice and sturdy, warm and strong. everything a little bunny like you needed for security.

his lips curled into a pleasant smile, canines glistening under the light of his room, smirking at your sweet words.

“ah- you want me to take care of you?” mattsun’s voice was laced with inquisition, wanting to hear another note of confirmation.

“yes please. haji said you would.” you responded, pouting at the slight teasing, but quickly warming up when those hands of his wrapped around your sides. it felt real easy, tugging you onto his lap.

“oh, bunny i will.” he assured, thinking over his next words.

“i just… you know the difference between me and iwaizumi… right?” there was small apprehension, felt like he was trying to piece together words that wouldn’t scare you off. shaking your head slightly, they did everything but that- luring you in with the promise of something dangerous, something exciting.

it was really cute- he could hear your heart pound from where he was, watching your face scrunch up, leaning into him.

“if you want me to take care of you, i need to let you know- i’m a lot bigger than him.” matsukawa huffed, sliding the hold on your sides down to your hips, groaning at the warmth and softness molding under his palms.

“and i dont fuck like he does.”

the smooth timbre of his voice turned gravely, growling out those last few words, bringing your body to his- entrapping you in all of him. he let himself grace your neck, lips just barely touching- letting you back away at the challenge.

but you were a greedy thing, the small hint of danger electrifying every nerve in your body. thighs jumping around his lap, squirming.

he says it like a warning, but all it does is excite you. the promise of him fucking you doenst let you focus on anything else.

mattsun feels your squirming, sees the way you bite at your lips, pupils dilating as you watch him, wide eyes roaming his face.

he's the one who starts the grind, tightening the hold, shifting to sit back slightly; pushing you against the length already hard and heavy in his pants.

this is his favorite part, seeing the surprise- eagerly watching for the look of pure shock. maybe you're finally feeling the heavy severity of the situation, maybe it's a jolt of arousal that makes your eyes shake, lips parting in amazement at being sat on his big cock.

whichever one it is, it makes your head tip back, huffing out a tiny noise of surprise and want.

it feels so big, even now, just sat on his cock through his. pants and your bottoms and it's all just so-

“oh!”

throbbing cunt passing over a ridge, catching over your puffy clit, knowing it's the swell of his cockhead. it makes you weak, tipping forward, tugging at his shirt.

issei chuckles in response, warm hand traveling up your back, curling against your head. there's a tiny moment of reprieve- sits there, watching your shoulders tense up before he tugs.

it's gentle at first, admiring how you shape yourself perfectly for him, going limp as soon as he does, but just like you- he's a greedy man and pulls- back bowing against him. with clenched teeth at how you squirm, he hisses;

“what is it bunny?” what's got you makin’ those pretty sounds?”

there's already tears forming against your lashes, the feeling of your cunt freely gliding against the pool of arousal lying wetly right on your panties makes everything that more… exciting. if he's able to bring you to this state by just tugging at your hair… the thought makes you desperate or what else he could do to you.

“you! it's you ‘sei! don't want you to tease- take. care. of. me.” you mewl, exasperated at his actions.

he's so close- you can feel his cock pulse under him, and you want nothing more than to be split open.

but your sweet little tantrum simply makes him laugh, bringing your throat to his mouth, teeth grazing sweetly against the thrum of your pulse.

“little bunny… you’ve got some fight, hm?” he whispers, letting you go with a quick little bite- a reminder, something to let you know to calm yourself.

usually he’d take his time- reduce you into a mess of cum and tears and spit until you’re crying out for him, and even then he wouldn’t give you what you wanted. however, issei would play nice for now, knowing your little outburst was all due to the want for him. it made his heart thump loudly against his ribs.

“it’s okay- i’ll fuck it out of you.” mattsun groans.

you tense up at his words- the throbbing against the spot where he nipped keeping a heavy reminder, impatience didn't look pretty on you.

he lets a hand leave the warmth of your hips, thumb digging into the side of your cheek impatiently, keeping your head tilted to look at him- the tension in your scalp lessens and you're aware of the direction his other hand is traveling.

the sound of his belt clinking, button popping open, and zipper falling makes you squeak. whole body lighting up, pressing your cunt right against the hand working to release him from his pants.

“please!”

the word slips from your lips involuntarily, and once again, he lets the slip up go. there would be time to teach you to wait, to earn what he gives you.

using the grip he already has on your face, he picks you up, a show of strength tugging you up by your face to give his cock room to be released. your knees shakily hit either side of the bed around his body, hips tipping forward- giving him space, but even then, you feel the tip of his cock brush against your pussy.

a high, shaky sound of air leaving your lungs in a shocked whimper makes his cock jump heavily- your hands landing by your face as you stare, chest heaving- weight of his hand falls from your face, down to your neck, pressing you deep into the bed.

the thrum of fear peaks once more, exaggerating another gush of arousal, this time running down your ass- no longer caught by your panties.

“pretty.” is all he says, squeezing once, watching your legs jump. his thumb swipes up against your cheek to catch a stray tear. he wants to make a remark about your skittish muscles, working against you to tense up with every movement he makes, but the heavy lust burning in his stomach doesn't let him.

“breathe in for me- it’ll hurt less if you do.”

there’s sick pleasure watching you nod, so eager to do what he says just to be hurt in order to take him all. he wastes no time in order to tug your bottoms off, impatiently working with only one hand, all while he keeps his eyes on your face. its all a frenzy of want.

he wanted to take you like an animal, wanted to make it hurt- wanted to break your soft mind, but he resists. it’ll be fine for now, the time to play how he wants could happen at a later time.

the head of his cock meets heavy resistance, slickened by the never ending stream of arousal leaking out of your wanting hole- it makes it a little more bearable. you such in a breath, just like he says, tongue heavy with the weight of it playing against your cunt.

he was right, he was right and now your heart beat loudly in your chest at the feeling of him pressing in more and more- he was bigger than your hajime, and it hurt.

it hurt so good.

“m-more!” you gasp, impatiently waiting with the slow pace he's taking you. hands clawing at the hand still wrapped firmly around your throat, legs thumping over and over on either side of him.

it takes him back, gasping at the slight tilt of your hips seeking more of him, his eyebrows pinch together in amusement and surprise.

you were proving to be more of a challenge than he thought- but he did as he was told for now, shifting down to really pin you.

“pretty girl, so dirty- you keep surprisin’ me.” he grunts, watching your body lie pliant, mouth hanging open in a desperate and now silent plea.

he counts to three before lessening up, blinking at the way you shoot up to take a heavy gulp of air.

“good bunny.” he seethes, trying to keep up with your greedy cunt, fluttering around him as he pushes in and in and in.

its so good, nails digging into the arm still trapping your upper body down onto the bed, drooling as your tongue lulls out.

you’re hot and wound up, pooling sweat dripping down against your clothes, smushed against his mattress.

the first slam of his hips inside makes you sob, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of all the tension leaving your body, a reaction to being fucked so hard. you can feel him make a noise of appreciation at that, pushing his weight- using it to fuck you down onto the bed.

“so good- such a greedy pussy, only satisfied when it's being pounded like this- hm?”

issei emphasizes his words with an increasing tempo, barely giving himself time to breathe, drunk on your cunt- the pretty sounds you're making, the way your eyes have rolled to the back of your head, small hands no longer grabbing at his wrist.

you're creaming around him, already cuming at just mintues of being given what you so desperately begged for.

“issei! ‘sei!”

it sounds so pretty leaving your mouth in this breathy pitch and it's getting to him, the building orgasm crawling towards him at a rapid pace.

he releases the hold on your neck to grab desperately at your hips, arching your back against him while you jolt, body receiving the shock of his pistoning hips- slapping heavily onto your thighs, mixing with the loud squelch and squeal singing from your body.

you can’t will your muscles to contract any longer, already cuming once more at the change in position, weakly crying out his name- sweet and fucked out, babbling the consonants of his name over and over again.

“good girl- c-cuming so pretty for me.” he pants, teeth clashing together as he pushes past the resistance of your walls once more, sheathing his cock inside in a final attempt to make it hurt. he knows he’s successful when you lift up off the bed, choking out a warbling scream.

his body seizes, matching the feverish way you’re spasming around his body.

the heated, spurt of cum inside your cunt comes in thick ropes and you exhale in response, turning your head left to right as you receive it all- take it all in your battered, swollen walls.

he stays right where he stops, head hooked down, eyes looking at the cream of cum splattered on the stretched out lips of your cunt.

“fuck.” he gasps, slowly coming back from the overwhelming burst of pleasure.

“are you okay?” matsukawa asks, eyes softening at the way you slowly open your eyes, blinking hot tears from your lashes.

you cant respond verbally just yet, giving him a nod, a small tilt of your head before dropping your legs- finally relaxing.

he sees why you need this every night, you're glowing- covered in sweat and a sweet smile playing at your lips.

“so good- thank you issei.” you sing, already ready to sleep- and with the almost devious curl of your lips, he swears you- the sweet bunny he brought into his home was more predator than prey.

“play with me some more... later- please.” you hum, shivering at the globs of cum cooling against your stretched cunt, all before you sigh and close your eyes, looking for that sweet sleep.

matsukawa stays up a bit later, giving iwaizumi a quick text- asking if you would ever truly be satisfied, and the response he gets sends a prickle of heat curling against his neck-

fuck her unconscious or else she’ll keep wanting more.

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[scuttling]

Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it’s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Alpha Jungkook x Omega Oc!

Genre : Angst , Hurt/ Comfort.

    Chapter 1  ⋆  Chapter 2  ⋆  Chapter 3     Chapter 4  ⋆  Chapter 5   ⋆   

    Chapter 6   Chapter 7     Chapter 8

Summary : Nine months after her marriage ends, Kim Heejin is a reclusive artist, who works out of a renovated warehouse in Busan, her days and nights spent with canvas and paint. Its exactly what she’s ever wanted, to be left alone. And yet, that nagging feeling of incompletion keeps her on her toes. And perhaps, it is that longing for something substantial, something real that pushes her to give her flawed but lovable ex-husband another chance.

Chapter 9

 “I… No. Just… please tell him I’ll be down…I’ll come down to the lobby to meet him.” I said quickly, panicking at the idea of having him here. I’d barely been here a day but this was still my space. And if I had him here then his scent would just seep into every nook and corner. 

The room would smell like him then… And what would I do after he left?

God, what was I even thinking? Head swimming, I crawled to the edge of the bed and breathed shakily. 

It felt surreal, climbing out of the bed and moving to the vanity . I stared at myself in the mirror as I grabbed the makeup bag I kept with me all the time. Wide eyes and parted lips, creamy gold skin turning lily white because of how the blood had just drained after that phone call. 

I looked petrified .

Jungkook… I thought numbly. Jungkook’s waiting downstairs and I’m going to see him. 

What is he thinking.... What is he feeling... why is he even here? 

You’re not responsible for his emotions, Taehyung’s soothing voice in my head helped a bit but not a whole lot. What about my emotions, I though desperately, grabbing the tube of gloss and slowly uncapping it. I ran the end of it over my lips and felt my fingers tremble because I didn’t know why I felt this need …to look beautiful.

I didn’t need to, I though miserably. Everyone knew omegas were beautiful. Beta supermodels were beautiful yes but they couldn’t hold a candle to me, at least for someone like  Jungkook. He was an alpha, his brain was built to find me attractive. I had evolutionary genetics on my side, which mean that if I ever actually wanted to seduce Jungkook , he wouldn’t really stand a chance .

But I didn’t want that.

I had had enough of that. Enough of seeing handsome, rich alphas being reluctantly attracted to me. They made it obvious too. Most of the hate mail I got stemmed from angry wives or girlfriends accusing me of seducing their men , even though  I’d never so much as laid my eyes on them. It was so unfair. 

I didn’t enjoy watching them lose their minds at the sight and scent of me, because i knew that deep down,  they thought that all omegas were scum. 

Manipulative, sex driven , greedy and selfish . Those were the labels I got plastered with , on the media and on the streets. 

And Jungkook wasn’t different, I reminded myself firmly, pulling away from the mirror and grabbing the loose powder and dusting down some of it on the apple of my cheeks and down the length of my nose. 

He didn’t think any different than the others. Jungkook’s views on omegas were just as archaic and bigoted as everyone else’s .

He just didn’t act on them .

Sighing, I dropped the lipgloss back in the back and brushed my hair off my face. On a whim , I pulled off the hair tie holding the thick strands together, letting the wavy tresses fall over my shoulder. I hadn’t cut my hair in a long time and it felt to my hips now. My stylist was adamant that it added to my aesthetic.

  A primal siren, she had said staring at me in awe, like something eternal and beautifully dangerous. We’re lucky you seem incapable of hate, Heejin ...because I think you could bring grown men to their knees with that body and that face. 

I felt nauseous at the thought of it.   

Walking to the elevator felt like walking the plank and I had stop a couple of times, just to breathe deeply. I had to be smart about this. I was in therapy. Taehyung had taught me how to handle situations like this and while my heart was pounding too hard and my brain was too scrambled to use any of his therapy techniques, I still had some of my cognitive abilities intact. 

He came here, i thought desperately. 

He came looking for you and that means he isn’t nervous or worried or overthinking this because he doesn’t have feelings for you. If you want to come out of this  unscathed, you need to get your head on straight. You need to pretend that you didn’t just have a minor mental breakdown at the thought of him dating someone else. 

I took a deep breath, exhaling sharply before stepping into the elevator. The ride down to the lobby was barely a few seconds and when I stepped out, I realized the place was way too crowded for such an exclusive Hotel. And then I remembered that people were here for the Art Festival. I glanced at the reception desk, covertly, noting a conspicuous lack of Jeon Jungkook. The lady behind the desk held her hand up when she spotted me .

“Ms. Kim? Mr. Jeon just went to get you a drink...He’s over by the breakfast counter over there.” She pointed out the dining space where people were walking about getting breakfast and I swallowed, feeling hot and cold as I cautiously stepped into the crowd, trying to find a that familiar head of thick dark hair. 

I felt the apprehension build as I tugged on my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to reign in the chaos in my mind but it was impossible, everything too loud and too messy. I looked around and then, it hit me. 

His scent. 

I felt my lips part in surprise, and it felt like someone had turned the volume down , noises fading into a dull hum at the back of my mind as I stared at him. He hadn’t spotted me yet and I took a second to just....look.

He looked incredible.

There was really no other word for it. Incredibly handsome, Incredibly beautiful and so incredibly perfect as the late morning sun lit up the room, picking out the shine on his white silk shirt. I breathed in deep, my mindeasily picking out the musky pine scent of him and I stepped closer, moving straight towards him and I caught the exact moment my scent his senses.

He jerked a bit, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide before he turned, lips parted and gaze a bit unfocused as he looked around.

When he caught sight of me, he just blinked. 

I smiled weakly, body going limp with relief because.... because this was Jungkook. Not some monster I had to run from. This was Jungkook....even at his worst he had been better than some of the other people I’d met in life. 

I looked down at the drink in his hand and smiled a bit as he made his way over. 

“ This isn’t the same as buying me a coffee.” I said shakily as he finally stepped upto me.

His eyes danced with warmth. 

“What makes you think I can afford one? Besides, aren’t you the hotshot artist? Shouldn’t you be the one buying me stuff?” He said softly. 

“Just saw you on the front cover of a magazine. We both know you’re far from destitute..” Even through the smile, I felt the tug of emotion as I stared at him, felt the difference in him like night and day, the light and joy and ...contentment that seemed to radiate off him .

He smiled and held the drink out to me gently.

“ Heejin-ah.” He whispered. 

And somehow it was the sound of his voice, wrapping around the syllables of my name that finally did it. 

I felt the tears brim over, my lips parting in choked laughter as I stepped close and wrapped both my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and breathing him in. I felt him hold me, infinitely gentle and I exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t miss you,  at all.” I said shakily. He laughed lightly. 

“I missed you , too.” He stroked the back of my head gently and I sighed, fingers curling on the silk of his shirt. The fabric felt like liquid in my fingers and I played with it for a second, intensely aware that people were starting to stare. That this embrace had gone on for longer than social norms dictated but I couldn’t bring myself to care, letting my chin rest against his shoulder blades. 

And it was almost frightening.....how easy it was to pretend we weren’t broken at all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was so small when I last held her... I can’t believe she’s running around.” I said, awed, listening to Jungkook tell me about how Mina liked to climb everywhere. He laughed, shaking his head. 

"She’s growing bigger everyday. I can barely keep up.” Jungkook smiled, holding a hand out for me to step over the wooden slats that lined the tiny archway that led to the door to his building. I hesitated before lightly gripping his hand in mine, the gesture somehow feeling more intimate that it was. 

“You’re not staying at the Firenze?” I asked curiously, resisting the urge to reach for his hand again when he let go.

it was such a ridiculous thing but I’d never held hands with him. And It felt ridiculously nice, to slot my fingers with his, feel them in between mine. His palm against mine, calloused but somehow so comforting. 

 I’d forgotten how warm he was.

 Don’t. Don’t fall down this rabbit hole again, Heejin. We talked about this. He doesn’t think of you that way. He doesn’t. And neither should you. its unfair to him. He doesn’t deserve that. 

“No... As you can see my apartment is barely ten minutes away and Soeun has her exams so its easier for her to watch over Mina here at the apartment.

“Soeun?” I asked curiously.

“Park Soeun? She’s a University student who lives with me. She’s doing a correspondence course in fashion . So she’s home all the time and she helps out with Mina. And she speaks Italian so that’s a huge plus... ” He smiled. “ you’ll like her. She’s a good kid.” 

 Don’t make that face. Don’t fucking make that face, Heejin.

I struggled to keep my face straight , like I wasn’t feeling the weight of a dozen bricks at the base of my stomach. 

“A roommate...then..?” I asked quietly and he shrugged.

“Something like that. But mostly she helps take care of Mina when I’m out on an assignment.” He smiled and led me past two flight of stairs up to the studio apartment. 

I wrapped my arms around myself as he stopped in front of a wrought iron grill, gripping one end and sliding it open with ease. And then he rang the small bell n the side. I shuffled back and forth on my foot, heart racing. 

The door opened and I blinked because of how young the girl who opened the door was. A second later she was beaming, moving forward and wrapping both her arms around me.

“Unnie!” She squealed, hugging me so close that I almost choked. Completely thrown I could only gape at Jungkook who was laughing . 

“Oh, I forgot to mention..she’s a bit of a fan. “ He teased lightly and I smiled awkwardly, watching as she pulled back to stare at me, her gaze trained on my face unblinkingly. 

“Whoa...” She reached out and lightly touched my cheek with her forefinger making me jump. She flinched as well, flushing red.

“Shit..sorry...I just... I’ve never... I’ve never met an omega before.” She said softly. “ You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

I felt my heart pound, steeping back instinctively, an overwhelming urge to hide , anxiety pooling in my stomach as she continued to stare at me. I hated the attention and I wrapped my arms around myself. 

“Soeun, enough. Don’t make it weird.” Jungkook said sternly, voice hard and the girl immediately flushed, bowing apologetically. 

“Sorry...I.. sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable ... You’re pretty.” She said again before turning to Jungkook.

“I have to get some stuff for my exhibit, Jungkook oppa... Mina’s asleep. i’ll be staying over at Vince’s place for the night though. Is that okay?”

“Sure..have fun.” Jungkook smiled, “ Vince is her boyfriend.” He explained and Soeun nodded happily. 

“Italian men are absolutely amazing unnie...you should try some.” She winked and I laughed despite myself.

“I just might...” I said with a grin, watching as she walked over to slip on a pair of sneakers from the small shoe closet near the door. She waved enthusiastically all but bouncing away and I blinked at him , shaking my head.

“I feel a hundred years old right now.” I said softly, still stunned by the girl’s exorbitant energy. Jungkook laughed at that

“She definitely has that effect on people... Come on, I’ll show you around.” He held his hand out and I smiled , taking his fingers mine and letting him tug me further into the studio apartment. 

I looked around, taking in the full blown prints of Mina and Jungkook , caught in adorable poses in front of different tourist spots in Florence. I saw how much she looked like Jungkook now, and how openly affectionate they looked together, the love evident even in the still photos. 

And then my eyes fell on a familiar painting , my stomach lurching. 

“You... “ i turned to him in a rush and he was staring at me with a small smile.

“I had to bring that. It pretty much saved me, that painting.” He said casually, stepping close and running his fingers all over the print. 

“When you told me this is how Sooah saw me...” He traced the picture carefully before glancing at me,” it made me realize that Sooah didn’t just want a baby.....she wanted a baby with  me. She saw me as a father. As someone who could raise and nurture a tiny human  and that... that’s amazing isn’t it?” He sighed, staring at me.  

He looked beautiful, I thought with an ache deep inside me. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life and it seemed almost too good to be true. That he was here, at reach. So close. I wondered if this was it. This had to be a sign. A sign that we’d come full circle. That it was over. That we could finally break free from all that we’d been through, and look back at Jungkook’s past with fondness instead of pain.

And perhaps, just perhaps I could reach out and touch him with something more than just the love you have for a friend. . Perhaps I could reach out and touch him, without feeling guilt and foreboding.

I exhaled shakily stepping up and running my fingers over the canvas. It was nothing fancy... Just a painting a painting of Jungkook holding Mina up by her waist, high over his head, staring up into her face with all the love and adoration in the world, The child in the painting doesn’t look exactly like Mina, of course, but I’d had no idea , seeing as Sooah had commissioned the painting when she was pregnant. But Jungkook.... Jungkook looked exactly like he did now : Happy and at peace. 

“You’re alright, then?” I asked quietly , a wealth of meaning behind the words and he smiled , nodding gently. 

“I’m fine…” He whispered , “ And I’m so glad I can tell you that, like this. Thank you for coming , Heejin-ah . I know you owe me nothing but.. I wanted to show you that… it wasn’t all bad you know. What we went through… Something good did come out of it.” He whispered.

I choked out a sob.

“I lied.” I whispered. “ I did miss you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened.

“I have a lot to be sorry for. But I don’t want to remind you of those things. I just want you to know that… I understand what you went through…those six months. I understand that it was difficult and painful and i… I’m grateful that you didn’t give up on me. And I’m grateful that you stayed in my life.  Because I know I didn’t deserve that.”

“You deserve to be loved Jungkook.” I said quietly. “ Its not wrong to move on. You deserve to… find happiness again.”

He stared at me, his gaze soft and gentle.

“I can almost believe it, when you say it that way.” He laughed. “ And… you know… I’m not sure if its love. But there’s someone I’ve been…. Well, I can sort of see myself with her. .” He grinned a little, smile boyish as he ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Wait… was he going to?....

“ I met her at Taehyung’s practice, a year ago. Her name is Lee Hyorin.” Jungkook looked at me, doe eyes shining with excitement.

And just like that the world ended.

Or so it felt.

It was like being dipped in icy cold water, the shock of it rendering me speechless, lips parted and breath catching in lungs.

Blood rushed through my ears, so fast that I felt lightheaded, my legs nearly giving out. White noise filled my skull, pain lancing sharp through my heart like a thousand paper cuts, and I couldn’t really breathe. It took a few seconds…. For my heart to catch up with what my mind had just processed. And when it finally did, the pain was so excruciating, I had to clench my fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palm to ground myself.

“She’s an alpha…and she lost her husband around the same time Sooah passed..” Jungkook gave me a soft smile. “ She’s actually a curator at one of the museums here. She’s the one who made all the arrangements for me to move here to Florence. ”

“Wow… That’s…” devastating,. “ That’s good news. Jungkook.. I.. How long…” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow. “ How long have you guys been dating?”

“About three months now. We’re taking it very slow, because we aren’t really ready. She has a son too. He’s three years old. Mina loves him so that’s a plus.” He laughed.

My lungs constricted, breathing difficult and my head swam because ….. what. Realization set in so quickly, I was left reeling. I was in love with this bastard, I thought miserably. So in love with him that it felt like he was shredding my heart into ribbons. Every word of his mouth felt like a sharp deep stab, straight through the center of my heart and the pulsing, beating organ was on the verge of giving out.

“She’s going to be there at the dinner tonight at the Festival. She’s one of the organizers by the way. She’s kind of the reason I got in, I think.” He laughed , looking abashed and what a load of bull that was. Jungkook was successful and well known. Superbly talented at his chosen field. She was lucky to have him.

How can she have him when I’m the one who fixed him? How is that fucking fair?

“She really understands the things I’ve been going through, the past few months and because we both still attend therapy with Taehyung, we’re able to talk about a lot of stuff. Stuff I can’t share with others…” Jungkook was saying and I tuned him out, not wanting to hear another word.

I swallowed, choking on bile. I could feel sweat gathering on my scalp, my skin clammy and damp , the air between us shifting into something poisonous and filled with so much dismay, it was a miracle he hadn’t picked up on it.

Couldn’t he sense how distressed I was? Couldn’t he see how his words were hurting? Couldn’t he fucking see that I couldn’t live without him? Why on earth couldn’t he see me the way he apparently saw every other woman on the damn planet…..

Because he’s a shitty Alpha, I thought miserably, willing myself not to burst into tears. He was a shitty excuse for an alpha back then and he’s the same now.

A low, distressed cry began somewhere behind him and he jumped.

“Oh, shit she’s up… come on, Heejin.” He said with a bright smile, turning around and rushing down a small hallway and I willed myself to breathe in deeply, reminding myself that this wasn’t the end of the world. I could get through this. Besides, it was Mina.

Beautiful, perfect Mina who had been there for me. She would see me and she would give me that sweet gummy smile of hers, does eyes twinkling and I would get through this. Because her smile was what was important. Her smile and her joy and her happiness.

The sobbing had slowed down to small hiccups and I stepped past the threshold cautiously, watching as Jungkook bent over the large crib, carefully lifting her out and into his arms. She looked breathtaking, an absolutely gorgeous little girl . I stared, mesmerized as I stepped closer. My arms ached, and my chest tightened. Lips wobbling, I exhaled sharply, moving to reach for her.

She turned to glance at me and just as my fingers brushed her cheek, she recoiled.

Hard.

A loud wail tore through her tiny body and I felt my eyes go wide. Her casual little cry had turned into a sobbing , loud wail and I could smell the distress in her , the fear and distrust as she curled away from me.  Jungkook looked stunned as well, instinctively drawing her close and embracing her, moving away from me because….

Because I was the reason, she was distressed.  

My skin went ice cold at the revelation and I stumbled back, stunned.

“I… I’m sorry.” I choked out, confused and disoriented. Jungkook looked stricken, gently rocking her back and forth and she clung to him, gripping his shirt and I bit my lips, moving further back and I glanced at him, my heart shattering.

“She’s …She’s still sleepy… She doesn’t do well with strangers…” He said softly, looking upset, “ Maybe you could…wait outside…”

Stranger…. Was that what I was?

“I… I’ll go. I’ll just go.” I turned on my heel, rushing out of the door and struggling to breathe in air, my heart clenching so hard I was sure I was going to pass out. I felt my knees give out when I reached the couch, dropping down and drawing my knees up , wrapping my arms around my legs . I didn’t know how long I sat there, fighting sobs and choking on air…and when I finally came to myself, the sobs from the room had died out.

“She’s fallen asleep again.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence and I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I felt him move closer, felt his scent hit me as he stepped right up to me, kneeling on the floor in front of me.

I looked up at him, lips wobbling as I took in his handsome face.  A face that was so deeply carved into my heart and my soul, I couldn’t imagine living without it. Without him. The tears came then, helpless and endless and so painful.

He pressed in closer, cupping my face in his palms, thumb brushing the tears that spilled over so relentlessly.

“Heejin…” He whispered and I let my fingers curl around his wrist as his thumb kept brushing the curve of my cheeks. I took a deep , shaky breath .

“She doesn’t remember me….  “ I whispered, “ She doesn’t recognize me at all…She hates me……” I choked out , despair filling every last crevice of my insides, gut twisting as I remembered how Mina had twisted away from me, how her scent had soured in distress at the sight of me, at the touch of my fingers.

 And I wondered if it was different with this other woman..Hyorin, wasn’t it? Did Mina climb into her arms with ease? Did she curl into her chest and sleep? The way she used to with me,  when she was a month old and missing the warmth of a mother.. ….

All those nights spent in that tiny nursery, lying on the cold unforgiving floor, watching the rise and fall of Mina’s chest through the dark room…telling myself it was worth it… it was worth being touched against my will, worth being treated like filth by a man driven mad with grief and anger….all because of this baby…this tiny little baby who had needed me….

And now…she didn’t even know who I was…..worse…she was repulsed by the very sight of me… I couldn’t cope.

“Look at me…” Jungkook rasped, voice raw and cracking. “she doesn’t hate you, Heejin… she just … you feel new to her… different…” 

I shook my head, unable to think about anything beyond the sheer devastation that filled me, the way his daughter had pulled away and run, had refused to come anywhere near me. I realized with lancing pain that I’d wanted to see her, way more than I’d wanted to see Jungkook .

Because she was the reason I’d hung on for so long in that marriage which had been the biggest fucking mistake of my life…. the only reason I’d stuck around . Mina …Having her in my arms, her scent against my face, that had been the only genuine happiness I’d experienced  in a marriage filled with sheer , unending misery. 

“I… she… Why doesn’t she remember? “ I breathed, sagging into his arms, tears soaking his shoulders and his palm ran up and down my back.

“Because she was a baby. Heejin…. I left when she was a baby…”

“Why did you?” I snapped. “ Did it hurt you so much? The thought of living under the same sky as me ? Why you did you go?” I demanded.

Jungkook pulled back, hands coming up to grip my shoulder, holding me at arms length.

“Look at me.” He whispered. “ I had to … You know I had to go….I was hurting you. I was… I was draining you of life. Destroying you… “

Jungkook’s words reminded me of who he was. Of who I was… Of who I was to him.

I choked out, sobbing.

“I hate you. You treated me like scum. Like a crutch….. Like some sort of tool to get better and you just left… you…”

You found someone better. You broke me down and now you’ve gone and found someone better….because I was never good enough for you… I was never someone you could love….

“I had to let you go. I had to end that relationship because it was tainted with so much grief and anger and selfishness and greed. I knew that anything I did afterwards would be tainted by my actions… I… I had to make amends, Heejin. And do you think for a second, that it wasn’t the hardest thing I ever did? That walking out on you wasn’t one of the most devastating things I’ve ever experienced? But I did it for us… for this…” 

I stared at him.

“And what is this?” I asked brokenly.

“This is me, being able to touch you like this.” Jungkook pressed a palm to my cheek, “ And not feeling guilt or sadness or grief or loss.  I did it so we could have this…this… This thing where I can look at you and hold you and see that you’re healing. That you’re doing better… That you’re living the life you want…. That you’re happy. This is me standing here , in front of you and smiling because I’m happy too. Happy that you’re here.  ” He exhaled, “ I’m happy that despite all the hurt we’ve been through for and because of each other, I can look at you now and tell you, honestly, that I’m glad to see you.” 

What a joke.. What a fucking joke.

I smiled shakily.

“Well… “ I said softly, my stomach churning because I was done. Done with him and mostly with myself. “ Isn’t that absolutely wonderful.”

His gaze softened and he smiled.

“I want us to be friends, Heejinah. Even though we don’t see or talk to each other, I think of you often. And when Mina’s old enough to understand , I’ll tell her all about you… I want you in our lives. You’re a friend. ”

I stared at him , feeling the words echo in my skull . It left an acrid taste on my senses, the way he put me into this neat little box, friend. So ….insignificant. Everyone had hundreds of friends. There was nothing even remotely special about being someone’s friend.

Friend just meant replaceable and forgettable. And just like Mina didn’t remember me…. Someday Jungkook wouldn’t either. The knowledge filled my veins spreading all over my body and leaving a fierce, heavy ache in my chest.

It was my fault, I thought despondently. My fault because I had been an idiot.

Jungkook was the sane one here , I thought miserably. These nine months, while I’d been dwelling on him and worrying for him…he had done the healthy thing , by moving on with someone he could actually envision a future with….

What had I done, these past nine months? Dreamt up a fantasy world where somehow we found our way back to each other and built a life together… It seemed so foolish now, in the light of Jungkook’s words and his confession….

Jungkook had done all of this, not for me…but for himself. For his daughter whom he loved and for his wife , whose memory he wanted to honor. And perhaps it was my own delusion that made me think that I’d played some stellar role in his healing…. Maybe if I hadn’t been there, he would have gotten better just the same…. Maybe I hadn’t been a tool …as much as a hindrance …to his healing.

I shook my head, bitterness coating my tongue.

“I should get going.” I whispered , voice shaking.

This is it, I told myself. This is the last time you look at him with that heaviness in your heart. You deserve better. You deserve… a lot of things. And just because people don’t give it to you doesn’t mean you have to settle for less……

“So soon? Hyorin will be back in a couple of hours… I could show you some of my work, and we could get lunch ….”

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to meet her in his home. Didn’t want to see him being domestic and affectionate and …normal with her when all I’d ever seen was Jungkook in his anger and grief, either yelling abuses or gripping me with a lust that was tainted with violence and rage. I stared at his hands, the ones I’d liked holding….

How did I forget? That those were the same hands that had held me down and done things that should, rightfully have landed him in prison?

I shook my head, to clear the images out of my head. Looking at him now,  Jungkook looked eager, happy and healed. And I realized that he’d just pushed all of his own actions out of his mind. Forgotten all about it. And that was fair. He probably didn’t even remember any of it. He had been drunk out of his mind, lost in his head and surely, forgetting must’ve been easy… A relief.

I didn’t begrudge him that.

But…

I hadn’t been drunk. I’d been stone cold sober under him on that bed and so, maybe forgetting didn’t come that easily for me. And I was glad that Jungkook could move on and be happy but….

But I couldn’t stay here and pretend that it was the same for me. I wasn’t happy or healed, I thought miserably. And maybe , maybe the sight of him moving on was a sign that I had to stop thinking that healing meant going back to him and his daughter.

“Heejin… What’s wrong? Is it because of Mina.. she’s just not used to…” He began but I quickly pressed a palm to his chest, smiling.

“Strangers.” I said softly. “ I know. That’s not it… You know I have to introduce my exhibit at dinner tonight. I don’t know what the itinerary is or what I’m supposed to say…. None of it.. I need to meet my agent and prep myself a bit. Its alright…I’ll see you tonight.” I said softly.

“I’m sorry… I can’t walk you back because Mina-“

“Of course. Don’t worry about it…. I’ll just…”

The doorbell rang, startling me.

“Jungkook!” A strong voice called out and I went still.

“Hyorin?” Jungkook’s face lit up and I felt my stomach churn. God, the universe really was against me wasn’t it? Sighing in defeat, I wrapped my arms around myself, sitting back down on the couch and waiting.

Behind me , I could hear hushed whispers, soft laughter and shuffling feet. My mouth went dry.

“Ms. Kim….”

I turned around, greeted by the sight of a tall, strapping young woman, pretty by any standards. She was dressed in a pant suit , her hair long and straight, hitting the top of her shoulders. She looked smart… Important.

“Ms. Lee… Its nice to meet you.”

She held her hand out and I shook it gently.  Jungkook smiled at her fondly and his phone rang from somewhere inside the studio.

“Hang on that’s probably Soeun…” He smiled at me and moved away and I watched him leave before shifting my gaze to Hyorin, who was staring down at me with a small smile.

“Are you here in Italy by yourself? Or with one of your many …uh… patrons ?” She smirked.

I blinked.

“Patrons?” I asked softly. “ Excuse me?”

“Jungkook and I’ve been following all the stories about you, back in Korea. You get around quite a lot… don’t you? Every alpha within a 100 mile radius wants a piece of the lovely Kim Heejin… And honestly, could anyone blame them? You look exquisite.”

I stared at her, stunned. The implication was so obvious that I would be an idiot not to realize what she was hinting at. So this was the woman , Jungkook chose? Yet another prejudiced bigot?

I laughed a bit, feeling my heart sink.

“I’m not seeing anyone. If that’s what you’re asking.” I said quietly.

Hyorin smirked at that.

“Of course you aren’t… We all know that isn’t really something your kind does… monogamy, right?”

“Do you have a problem with me Hyorin ssi?” I asked roughly and she laughed.

“Oh come on.. we’re all adults, here. And Heejin, you  agreed to be a part of this festival, knowing full well, that’s what we think . Its because deep down you know I’m right….. Omegas can’t stay with one alpha. They need sex to survive and they are usually open to it with anyone. Not that I’m blaming you or judging you for it. It’s just how you’re built.”

I smiled wide, ignoring the urge to claw at her face. .

“Well, you’ve definitely got me all figured out haven’t you? “ I shook my head, glancing at Jungkook who was making his way over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously and I smiled, glancing at her.

“ Hyorin ssi was just telling me how my sub gender makes it impossible for me to not go around whoring with every alpha I see…….” I glanced at him and Jungkook straightened, looking stunned, “ Well, I hope you two enjoy your beautiful monogamous relationship with each other something an omega like me can only fantasize about…. Right Jungkook?” I smiled and he looked completely lost.

“Wait…What? Hyorin what did you say?” He demanded and she was glaring at me now.

“Please don’t take it personally, I was only talking about omegas in general. “ Hyorin frowned, before bowing and moving away to stalk off in the direction of the bedrooms and I watched her, feeling dirty and terrible.

“Heejin, ignore her.. she’s just old fashioned and-“

“Is that what you’re going to call it?” I snapped and Jungkook froze.

“Heejin…”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’m not upset about what she said. I’m upset that she feels comfortable enough, spouting that bullshit to me , in your house. Makes me wonder what else she’s told you about omegas, and how much of it you probably agreed with.”

Jungkook stared at me , lips parted.

“I… I don’t feel that way. You know that.” He said stiltedly.

“Do I? All I know is that she knows about me, about who I am and apparently, she can call me a slut…. In front of you, without worrying about it upsetting you. And that tells me you’re as much of a bigot as she is.”

“Heejin… You know that’s not it. We all grow up being fed certain things and –“

“But you did grow up right?” I snapped. “ you grew up and you can think and act for yourself. As can she. Once you’re an adult, you don’t have a single fucking excuse for being racist or homophobic or bigoted because being an adult means having the ability to unlearn the toxic things you’ve been taught and relearn how to be a decent fucking human.”

I shook my head as he stared at me.

“And you know what…please just… just don’t call me or consider me as a friend.” I laughed. “ Because I don’t think I can consider you one. Not anymore. You can’t…...You can’t just love certain parts of me and be disgusted by others you know? I don’t need a friend who can care about me and love me and help me as long as he can forget that I’m an omega….. I need a friend who can love every jagged, broken , part of me. Who can call out people who talk bullshit at me , who can look someone in the eye and tell them they’re wrong when they’re calling me names  and that’s not who you are……. You’re not it.” I snapped.

Jungkook looked stricken, reaching out to hold me and I stepped away, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Heejin, you’re right … I’ll talk to her… I’ll…” He began but I shook my head.

“Whatever.  Just don’t call me a friend. We can’t be friends. Let’s just be what we always were , yeah? A big fucking mistake that never should have happened.”

I stormed out of the door, shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, there are no flights available for today?” I snapped. “Tell them money isn’t an issue. I need to get out of this place right now.”

Minho looked incredibly stricken, hair messy from how often he’d run his fingers through.

“ We just arrived seven hours ago, Hee. Of course there’s no flight yet…. We can stay another day…attend the dinner and-“

“No.” I snapped. “ Absolutely not. I’m not here because they find my art good  or worth putting up. I’m here because they know the alphas around here will want to pay more , to pour in more cash for a chance with me.” I held the embossed booklet up, waving it in his face.

“Heejin…” He protested but I shook my head.

“ Did you see the cost to get into my pane ?. Extra ….for alphas? And yet…apparently they had to pre book it and its filled? You think any of the lecherous bastards who paid money to see me , gives a shit about my art?  And apparently, there’s a meet and greet, for alphas only if they purchase seven or more paintings worth over 10000 Euros. Do you think, that’s what I’m worth?”

Minho looked down at his shoes, ashamed.

“I .. I’m sorry, Hee. You’re right. Its offensive . And an insult to your art and talent. We shouldn’t have come here, you’re right. And I regret it… But just… give me a few hours, yeah? I’ll find a way to get us out of here….”

I exhaled sharply, exhaustion weighing heavy on my head. I felt like I’d taken a pounding, physically and mentally and I wondered how a day that had started so well, could go so wrong, so fast…

Shaking my head, I trudged wearily to the elevator, knocking on the buttons before sagging against the wall, letting my eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook was dating.

Jungkook was dating. His girlfriend thought I was a slut and here I was about to prove her right.

I wanted to slit someone’s throat.

Sighing, I watched the door slide open, grabbing my keys out of my bag,  and moving to the suite. I opened the door before making a beeline for the bed. I collapsed on the soft duvet, groaning. I was torn between wanting to call Taehyung to yell at him about Jungkook and calling Minho to demand an update on the flights.

I was spared the dilemma when the phone in the room rang. Groaning, I moved to swat at the phone, turning on the speaker.

“Ms. Kim? There’s a Mr. Jeon here to see you?”

I blinked, feeling disbelief swell inside me. Did he not get the hint?

Annoyed, I sat up.

“Send him up.” I said, in no mood to go all the way down to see him.

“Up?” She sounded surprised, “ To your room?”

“Yes. To my room. Is that a fucking problem?” I growled, annoyed.

“Not at all Ms. Kim. He’ll be right up.”

I got out of bed, shrugging off my jacket and taking off my dress as well. It was a little damp because I’d sweated through the fabric. I grabbed one of my oversized t shirts , slipping it on and moving to open the door before retreating back to the inner room. Feeling annoyed, I walked up to the vanity and grabbed the hair brush, running the bristles through my locks. I heard his footsteps outside and stiffened.

“If you’re here to defend your shitty girlfriend, you can just leave Jungkook. I swear to God, I’ve had enough of this.” I shouted. He didn’t reply and my hackles rose.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I said something harsh-“ I froze when I reached the doorway, staring at the man in front of me. He had a large , almost humongous bouquet of wild orchids and roses in his hand and I stared at his face.  

This was definitely not Jungkook.

“Umm… hi.” The man bowed awkwardly, his gaze going straight to my legs, where my t shirt ended, just a couple of inches past my waist. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Who are you…Get out !!!” I shouted, horrified, diving for my jacket and holding it up against my bare thighs. The man held both his hands up, eyes wide..

“I’m sorry… I… you said I could come up to your room….” He protested and I scowled, confused.

“What? “ I stared, stunned… “ Who…what?”

“I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. I’m uh….one of the sponsors for this festival. And a fan. Huge fan.” He was staring at me beseechingly and I felt my head begin to throb.

The sheer relentlessness of this day…..

“I… Mr. Jeon…” So weird, God, “ There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not…. I thought you were someone else.”

“Jungkook yes…your ex husband, right? You were married to him for six months after he lost his wife….. He’s also one of the artists exhibiting their work here.” He nodded quickly, running long fingers through thick glossy hair, lips parting in a hesitant smile and I stared at him.

“How do you know all that? ” I demanded, heart pounding. He immediately held his hands up again.

“I’m sorry… I sound like a stalker, shit. But Trust me I’m not. I just am a huge fan.. I looked up some stuff about you….before.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly, finally looking up at me.

I tried to catch his scent. No scent to speak of. A beta then. Relaxing just a bit, I swallowed. At least I wasn’t in any immediate danger. But still, I had no intention of letting him see me in nothing but a t shirt. Embarrassed, I gripped the jacket tighter.

“Why are you here?” I demanded angrily, taking in his appearance. He didn’t look like a hoodlum or someone dangerous. He was good looking, dressed in a white t shirt and black Jacket over plain black slacks. His shoes looked expensive and I didn’t miss the shiny Rolex on his wrist either,.

“Well, for one thing I own the Hotel.” He chuckled and that made my stomach turn. “And also like I said, I’m one of the main sponsors for the Festival itself.”

“Right.” I was too disoriented to process this, head throbbing. “Of course. Is there a reason why you wanted to see me?”

“I was downstairs…just now… I couldn’t help but overhear you with your agent. You wanted to leave as soon as possible. To pull out of the event and I’m just here to try and change your mind, Ms. Kim.” He smiled earnestly and I realized he was really quite young.

I sighed.

“Could you… Could you wait outside? I want to put some clothes on before we talk any further.” I said tiredly and he bowed quickly.

“Uh… These…I’ll just leave these here.” He placed the large bunch of flowers on the table before quickly leaving the room and I swore, racing to the suitcase in the corner. I quickly grabbed a pair of jeans, slipping them on hastily and zipping myself up before glancing at the mirror again. This would have to do.

I moved to the door and opened it, finding him right there, looking lost.

“I… come in, please.” I said hesitantly and he bowed again, moving in and waiting for me to close the door and take a seat on the couch, before sinking into an arm chair across from me.

“Did you see the itinerary? It doesn’t get more sexualized than this.” I waved the booklet and he flushed.

“I understand you’re upset about … certain things. I’m sorry that you feel objectified , in the festival. It wasn’t the intention I had when I first told Hyorin and the others that I wanted them to invite you. But , I’ve been busy the past month, and I didn’t go over the complete agenda. If I did, I definitely would have made sure that you were treated with just as much respect as the others. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do now, but I’ve had a word with all of the panelists and also the hosts. We won’t entertain any question or comments of a sexual nature and if anyone tries to insinuate anything , I’ll have them removed from the panel myself. “ He said firmly.

“I’m only here because you told me you would exhibit my mother’s works too.” I said sharply and he bowed.

“ Your mother’s works are just as exquisite and I’ve arranged for them to be displayed right at the center of the arena, with a running slide show of her childhood , her art technique and the great love she had for her daughter.” He said firmly.

I could only stare. He sounded incredibly sincere and there was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.

“I’m….” I bit my lips, “  Listen, Mr. Jeon, I’m flattered but honestly, I never wanted to be here. I… there was … something else that made me want to come and well, that turned out to be a huge mistake. To be honest, I’m not sure if I have it in me to suffer through days of people treating me like I’m some kind of sex crazed bimbo.” I shook my head.

“how about this.? You let me be your date for tonight and you let me display your work, today at the dinner itself. I’ll be right by your side. And then, I’ll have my private jet on standby and we can fly back to Korea. You deserve the spotlight, Heejin and I want people to see how good you are at what you do. I don’t care if I lose money over this… As long as you’re comfortable. ”

I gawked at him, stunned.

“Private Jet?” I choked out. “ Okay, now I’m genuinely concerned.”

He laughed.

“I’m a Hotelier, and I have properties all over the world and I like to inspect them personally most of the time. Its more practical to have a private jet than to try and align my schedules with everyone else.” He smiled.

“Right. Convenient.” I shook my head. “ I’m no stranger to excessive wealth, Mr. Jeon and trust me, it’s always left a  sour taste in my mouth.”

“I don’t flaunt my wealth, Ms. Kim. These clothes? Got them on the streets of Florence. I drive a Mazda. Wealth has no meaning to me. People do. People like you, who bring beauty into the world with their craft. You’ve made my world beautiful and I just want to repay , in some way.” He smiled,  “ Also,  You’re very  beautiful.” He added and then immediately looked away. “ I’m sorry. That was… dumb . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Endeared against my own wishes, I found myself fighting a small smile.

“Just tonight’s dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Just the dinner party.” He assured me quickly.

“Alright. But I’m not getting into any private Jet. My agent will book me tickets and I’ll find my way back to Korea.”

“As you wish. I’ll pick you up at seven. What color is your dress?” He asked casually and I blinked.

“Uh… Wine red? I guess? Why?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome.

“I’ll see you at seven, Ms. Kim.”

He bowed, before pausing by the bouquet. He grabbed a couple of  flowers, holding them up for me to see.  

“Daffodils and Lilacs.” He grinned, “ To finding something new to love. And to new beginnings.”

Wow.

Subtle.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting all about Jungkook as I grinned all the way back to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I told you… coming with me will earn you major points.” Wonwoo smirked as he pulled me in by my waist , holding my dress up for me as I stared at the sleek black limousine at the Hotel entrance. I watched as he held my wrist gently, latching a string of sterling silver and red rubies around the delicate curve of it.

“This is too lavish…I don’t want this…Who are you?” I demanded, flushing because of the way the flashes went off in every direction, reporters scrambling when they caught sight of him. He was clearly popular, if the number of photos being clicked were any indication. I regretted everything.

Wonwoo pressed a kiss to my wrists, right near the bracelet and gently placed my palm on the curve of his elbow, leading me over to the car and I watched the chauffeur open the door for us.  

“ Someone who can get anyone here fired. Be careful , sweetheart.” I watched in mute horror as he bent low, picking up the hem of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip, while climbing into the limousine. The reporters began whispering excitedly and more flashes went off . My face completely red, I hastened to climb in.

“These people look at you like you’re some kind of King.” I stared out of the tinted windows seeing the sheer multitude of people and Wonwoo chuckled.

“ That’s because I am. At least for tonight. And that’s why I’m the perfect guy to protect you Heejin. They’re all terrified of me.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook found me, fifteen minutes into the event. I hung by the large archway, near an alcove, sipping champagne and nibbling on some hors d’oeuvre as people threw glances at me. I noticed the conspicuous lack of a date on his arm and straightened, sighing and bracing myself for more unpleasantness as he picked his way through the crowd, eyes trained on me.

“Can we talk?” He said, the minute he was at hearing distance and I exhaled.

“No.” I said casually and he made a noise of impatience.

“Fucking, hell Heejin..just…” He swore again, looking upset. “ Why are you doing this to me? What do you want from me huh?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What do I want from you? Oh, fuck off Jungkook. I want nothing from you.” I snapped, turning on my heel, ready to leave but his hand shot out, gripping me right above my elbow, fingers curling in hard.

“Fuck.. listen. I don’t know what she said to you. I .. I’m sorry if she offended you…. Alright? She’s an alpha… I can’t change the way she thinks…”

“I didn’t ask you to. I merely said that if you associate yourself with people who think I’m scum, I won’t let you into my life. Because I respect myself too much for that.” I said firmly.

“She doesn’t think you’re scum, Heejin come on. She just has some misconceptions about certain things.”

“God, Jungkook…just stop. Alright? Stop. Because I’m not asking you do anything. I’m leaving on a flight tomorrow morning and you’ll never see me again. That’s all there is to it.”

He froze at that, fingers curling harder around my arm and it hurt, the skin turning red. Stupid fucker, never knew his own strength.

“Ow, Jungkook let go.” I whispered, and he did, albeit reluctantly.

I rubbed at the bruised skin, furious. I watched as the redness healed over, the pain fading to a throb and then into a pleasant heat and I hated it. Hated that being an omega meant that Jungkook’s rough touch turned to pleasure on my skin.

“What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow? The Festival is for two weeks.”

I sighed.

“I didn’t come here for the festival. I came here to see you. To see if you were as hung up on me as I was on you…but apparently not.” I snapped.

Jungkook went perfectly still at that.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Wow. You really never even considered it huh? Us? Together.?” It wasn’t funny at all, but I could only laugh. Probably because I’d been so sure.. So certain that there was something there.

He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a warm solidness behind me, an arm wrapping around my waist and a second later, Wonwoo was there pressing up against me.

“Jungkook-ssi… Such a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out, and Jungkook frowned, his eyes trained on where wonwoo’s fingers curled around my waist.

“Get your hands off her.” He said shortly and Wonwoo blinked, pulling away from me and stepping back .

“What the-? No. Fuck you.” I snapped, glaring at Jungkook before grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and bringing it back around me. “Don’t you fucking dare take your hands off.” I held my finger up at his face and Wonwoo looked momentarily stunned.

“Really, Heejin? You’re doing this?” Jungkook glared at me. “ We need to talk.”

“So talk.” I snapped. “ Tell me why you think a bigoted bitch is the best you can do in terms of dating. Tell me why she’s the only one who can ‘ understand’ “ I made air quotes, shaking my head, “ You think you and your shitty have monopoly on grief Jungkook? I’ve lost people too. Just because I haven’t screwed other people over because of it, doesn’t make my grief invalid….yeah.”

Ringing silence followed and I regretted everything.

“Fuck.” I whispered, shaking my head. “ I .. Shit. I need to get out of here.”

I pulled away from Wonwoo, moving out of the huge ballroom and Jungkook was right behind me, of course he was.

“Heejin…fuck. Wait. You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t understand me. Of course you did. Its why you stuck around… I know that. And you’re right, she had no business talking about you like that. I’ll have a word with her… But…”

I sped up, wanting to get away but he grabbed me again, tugging me closer out of the hall way and into a darkened alcove and I flinched when he pushed me up against the wall, caging me in, as he pressed in closer.

“What did you mean by that?” He demanded, hands coming up to grip my waist, curling gently and my chest heaved at the touch of him, the enclosed space making his scent turn potent, strong and impossible to avoid. My nostril flared as I breathed him in, familiar and yet so foreign, comforting and yet so fucking dangerous.

“By what?” I snapped and his hands moved up, shaping the curves of my body , thumb grazing the tip of my breast and making me jump, before moving up, gripping my face, gently. He pressed his thumb into my lower lip, rubbing back and forth, face impossibly close and I swallowed, throat sandpaper dry.

“About us? Together….” He breathed and I exhaled shakily.

“You know what I meant.” I whispered. “ If you don’t then I can’t explain it.” I whispered and he swore, head dropping against mine, forehead resting against mine, and lips less than a hairsbreadth away.

We’ve never kissed, I thought suddenly. I licked my lips, turning my face away but his fingers gripped my chin at once, yanking me around to stare at him again.

“Look at me, baby. Tell me… You thought about us together?” He whispered .

I breathed shakily.

“Of course I did…. “ I snapped.

“Then clearly therapy isn’t working for you.” He snapped right back and I flinched.

“What-“

Jungkook pulled away staring at me.

“ Do you even remember all the shit I did to you?” He asked quietly. My stomach dropped.

“Jungkook.”

“I broke your ribs.” He said calmly. I swallowed.

“That.. That was an accident. You didn’t mean to.” I protested. “ And we’re past all that… I don’t… I don’t blame you for it.” I said, which was honest enough.

“And what about the nights I got drunk, Heejin….” He said softly and my skin went cold.

“That… That was just… It was just an outlet for your grief… “ I looked away and he scoffed.

“You’re calling it an outlet for grief. I believe the world calls it rape.”

I felt my entire body shiver at the word , moving up to wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him close but he was stiff as a board.

“ Don’t” I snapped. “ Don’t …. Its over…it’s in the past.”

“It was still me. I was the one who did it and I can’t… I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

I pulled away to glare at him.

“So , what? You won’t give us a chance because of something I’ve already forgiven you for?”

“Yes.” He said shortly. “ Because you may have forgiven me, but I haven’t forgiven myself.”

I felt my body sag in disbelief.

“Jungkook that’s-“

“You deserve better. You always have. I’m not… I don’t deserve someone like you Heejin. You’re kind and breathtaking and I’m just… a broken mess of a man who’s barely getting by.”

“Oh, right… So broken.” I scoffed. “ You’re on the front page of magazines, you have a successful career and a beautiful girlfriend,,,,forgive me if I’m not breaking my heart over your failures.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily before looking up at me.

“  You wanna know the truth about me, Heejin-ah?” He swallowed. “ I just got out of rehab last week.”

I went still.

“What?” I was sure I’d misheard.

“I… I came here and about a month or so in…I started drinking again…” He glanced away and my heart turned over inside me.

“Jungkook, what?” I demanded, horrified.

“I got drunk and got into an argument with a cop. I hit him. They found out I was a single father and-“ He shook his head, “ I got arrested for disorderly conduct , Public intoxication and assault.”

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.

“ Arrested for assault... Jungkook why?” I breathed and he flushed.

“I know…. It was stupid.. I… I was stupid.” He said softly.  “Soeun isn’t a baby sitter. She’s a social worker. She’s here to keep an eye on me because they want to make sure I’m not a threat to Mina. If I slip up, they’ll deport me back home and then the state will likely take her away from me. Soeun likes me….so she agreed to lie to you ……And as for the girlfriend…” He laughed, shaking his head, “ Hyorin broke up with me after I got arrested. We’re not… We’re not dating. She was only there to get some prints for the panel tomorrow.” He finished shakily.

I stared at him.

“Why?” I demanded . “ Why would you lie to me… Jungkook ….”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a screw up.” He said shakily. “ I know I’m supposed to be getting better and I have but… But sometimes I just…I miss…. I miss home. “ He shuddered. “ And you.”  He looked up at me. “ I miss you a lot, Heejin and it hurts and I feel like the only way I can forget about you…about us together is if I drink. And I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the right to miss you, not after everything I put you through but I… it’s how I feel. ” He glanced away, trembling a little.

I wrapped my arms around myself, stepping away, feeling myself go cold.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, both of us staring at the floor lost in our own thoughts. I felt drained. Miserably so. Like someone had sucked all the strength out of me. I realized how badly I had wanted Jungkook to be okay. To heal and be himself again. And I’d spent the last nine months, fully convinced that he was. That he was doing what he loved, bonding with his daughter building a life for himself.

But apparently, he was also spiraling back into addiction as well.

It was like we were back in that apartment, both of us miserable  but desperate to be something we clearly were not : Okay.

“Does Taehyung know?” I asked finally and Jungkook hesitated before nodding.

“He was at my court hearing three weeks ago. He’s the reason I haven’t already lost her.” Jungkook whispered.

“What did he say?”

“He thinks I should come back to Korea.” Jungkook said quietly. “ He wants me to start therapy again with him. Every week. “

I nodded.

“Fair enough. And what do you think?”

“I think I will. My probation ends in three days. I’ll… I’ll start making arrangements afterwards. I’ll probably be back in a few weeks time. ”

I stared at him, finally seeing the things I hadn’t noticed this morning. The shadows beneath his eyes, the worry lines on his brow. I wondered if he would have ever told me the truth, if not for this little confrontation between us.

Silence descended again and I bit my lips, a million thoughts running through my head. I felt the pull of his scent through it all, an instinctive urge to reach out and touch and draw him close and I wondered if this was it. That for the rest of our lives we would just be drawn to each other, reluctant and hurt but unable to stay away.

“You’re leaving tomorrow then?” He asked quietly breaking through the fog in my head.  

“Well obviously not.” I snapped. “ I’m not leaving you. I’ll tell Minho, we’ll be staying here for a few weeks. Do you actually have a possible job back home? If you don’t I can ask my agent to find one for you….”

Jungkook was staring at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“ What?” I asked roughly.

He swallowed.

“No.. I .. I don’t have a job there.”

“We’ll get you one. And my apartment is big enough so you can stay with me till we find you a place of your own. And I think it’ll actually be good for you, because there’s a Fine Art photographer, pretty well know guy who stays just a few blocks away and e can probably- “

“You haven’t really changed have you?” Jungkook cut me off in the middle of my rambling .

I flushed, looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“Back when we were married… it was just like this.. I’d fuck up and do something awful and you’d just take it all in stride, get ready to help me out of it….”

“I don’t know what you mean…” I said quickly, “ Let’s go back to the party we’ll talk later-“

He grabbed both my arms, pulling me back to face him when I tried to get past him and I yelped, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?” I demanded. “ What is it now?”

“How do you do this thing, Heejin ?” He asked roughly. “ How do you just get ready to clean up every fucking mess I make like it doesn’t hurt you? Like I don’t hurt you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to wriggle out of his hold but he tugged me closer.

“How do you just…” He shook his head, “ accept me so unconditionally? Like… Its like no matter what I do, you’re just willing to look past it and I don’t fucking understand Heejin… why do you put up with me, damn it?”

I stared right at him. Caught his gaze and held it, refusing to look away.

“You know why.” I whispered, licking my lips, throat dry,  “ And if you don’t…. I’m not going to tell you.”

His eyes widened , lips parting and he exhaled sharply, before letting me go and stepping away.

He looked away, shaking a little and I sighed.

“Let’s just get this night over with, yeah?” I said quietly. “ and then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t reply, merely standing aside and motioning for me to leave first.

I shook my head, moving to grip his arm instead.

“Together.” I said firmly. “ We’ll get this night over with, together.”

 Author’s Note : i love these two. i’ve never wanted two people to be together so much. 

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[helaintoloki]

Meet the Family

pairing: Pietro Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: angst, manipulation, reader is a Westview hostage controlled by Wanda, etc., 2.5k in length

notes: writing a piece that takes place in the WandaVision universe was such a challenging and fun experience, and I really tried to capture the same dark undertones of the show so I hope you enjoy!

summary: An innocent family dinner with Pietro’s new girlfriend reveals that life in Westview is not what it seems. Uncle Pietro introduces y/n to the family!

Y/n almost feels like she’s being watched as the warm hand of her boyfriend— since when do I have a boyfriend?— carefully guides her trembling figure up the front steps of his sister’s house and rings the doorbell. Her grip on the glass dish of brownies in her hands is so impossibly tight she fears she might just break it, and when the silver haired man swoops down to steal a kiss from her cherry gloss stained lips she can’t help but to feel nauseated. The sickness morphs into guilt immediately, and when he looks down upon her with a gaze so tender and fond she forces herself to bat her eyes and smile at him. What kind of girlfriend is horrible enough to be disgusted by a kiss from her own boyfriend? Something isn’t right here...

“Don’t even sweat it, babe, my little sis is going to love you!” Pietro comforts with an easygoing grin plastered on his features.

“I hope so,” y/n murmurs quietly, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. This is the audition, her one shot at impressing the boss, and if even one tiny minuscule detail is thrown out of place then there goes her new house and fancy wardrobe and y/n is written out of the show. Permanently.

“My girlfriend is such a worrywart,” he laughs fondly with a gentle pinch of her cheek. It’s as if a switch is flipped inside of her, and this time when she smiles at him it is genuine and full of unadulterated love.

“I just want everything to be perfect, I know how much this means to you,” she replies earnestly, too dazed to notice the soft aww that drifts through the air from the audience. Pietro smiles.

“Man, did I luck out on finding the most perfect girl in the world or what?”

“Well us being together certainly isn’t a coincidence,” she notes with a small smile. The uneasiness begins to wash over her again, but y/n isn’t given a chance to dwell on the feeling as the front door swings open and a vibrant looking young woman stands in the doorway, almost beaming at the two with pure glee.

“Thank goodness you made it!” She exclaims, hand delicately resting on her chest to showcase her relief before she pulls the stranger her brother into a hug.

“Like we’d really miss Sunday dinner,” Pietro jokes before pressing a chaste kiss to his sister’s cheek. His hand returns to the small of y/n’s back and the fond smile pulls at his lips again. “Wanda, I’d like to introduce you to a very special little lady, my girlfriend y/n.”

“Oh, she’s very special indeed,” Wanda notes with an overzealous wink, ignoring the way in which the brownie dish begins to tremble in the poor girl’s hands. Just a little stage fright, that’s all. “It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Wanda.”

“It’s an honor to meet you,” the girl replies earnestly, “Pietro has told me so much about you.”

“Well aren’t you sweet! Please, come in,” Wanda grins, ushering the two inside before shutting the door. “Boys, Uncle Pietro is here!”

“What a lovely place you have,” y/n compliments. Her eyes scan the perfectly decorated home in wonder, awe, and a third thing she can’t quite place for if she dwells on it for too long her head begins to ache and her surroundings begin to grow fuzzy.

“Oh, please, it’s just a little something I threw together,” she jokes, canned laughter echoing distantly in the background of y/n’s mind.

“Uncle Pietro!” Two voices exclaim, and y/n watches curiously as her boyfriend lets out an ecstatic laugh before rushing forward to scoop the twin boys in his arms.

“If it isn’t my favorite little trouble makers!” He grins, making sure to ruffle both heads of hair. “Billy, Tommy, say hi to your aunt y/n.”

“Hi, aunt y/n,” Billy greets politely. Tommy is at her side in an instant, movements so quick y/n can’t help but to let out a startled yelp as he lunges for the dish in her hands.

“Are those brownies?!”

“Tommy, where are your manners?” Wanda chides gently, shaking her head with a laugh and reaching for the pastries. “Boys will be boys. I’ll take these off your hands.”

“Oh, uh, yes, thank you...” y/n murmurs softly, brows stitched together in discomfort.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s absence, another late night at the office. You know how it is, don’t you?”

“I can’t say I do.”

“Hmm... Well, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon, I’ll just go put these in the kitchen.”

“Oh, do you need any h-“

“No,” Wanda blurts out abruptly, startling everyone in the room. She plasters on a smile, “No thank you. How can I be a good hostess if my guest is doing all the work for me?”

“You’re right, I’m so sorry,” y/n flounders, panic clear amongst her features. “I-I didn’t mean to impose at all.”

“No apologies,” the woman murmurs quietly, a small smile on her lips and an admonitory glimmer in her eyes, “we’re going to have a nice family dinner, and everything is going to be just perfect.”

The tension in the air is suffocating, wrapping itself in a slow growing hold around y/n’s neck. Her eyes begin to water, bottom lip quivering in fear as she looks around the room that suddenly feels too big and too bright. She doesn’t belong here with these people, something is wrong, the man she came here with is not hers, and as Wanda’s figure retreats behind the kitchen door y/n makes a mad dash towards the nearest exit.

“Whoa!” Pietro exclaims with an uneasy laugh, and in a blue flash she suddenly finds herself being scooped up off her feet and tossed back down on the couch in between the apprehensive twins faster than her fried brain can even comprehend. “Not so fast there, missy. Just where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I don’t feel right,” the young woman murmurs, wincing at the uncomfortable dryness of her throat as she swallows. “I want to go home and lie down.”

“Don’t be like that, babe,” he chides with a disappointed frown, “this is my family.”

“But what about my family?” Y/n whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes that whenever she attempts to picture the life she once lived not a single thing comes to mind. “I don’t have a family.”

“This is your family now. We talked about this, remember? We came to Westview to make Wanda happy, and you don’t want to upset her, do you?”

“No,” she replies meekly, shuddering when the calloused pad of his thumb swipes across her warm cheek to remove any evidence of tears. No, I don’t want to make her unhappy, because if I do then I’m written off the show and I don’t know what will happen to me if I am. “I want to spend time with my new family.”

“Atta girl,” Pietro grins as he cups her face with both hands and brings her in for a kiss.

“Yuck!” Tommy exclaims in disgust from beside the couple, and this time y/n can’t help the bubbly laughter that escapes her at the young boy’s antics. Any memory of her previous meltdown is quickly wiped from her mind, and all she can think of now is how utterly grateful she is to be loved by such a wonderful man and be taken in by his wonderful family.

She pulls Pietro in for another kiss and giggles uncontrollably when he responds by tickling her sides, all while Wanda watches carefully from behind the scenes.

~~~

“Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate. Trapped in a state of imaginary grace.”

Her voice is quiet and serene as she hums along to the Modern English song playing on the radio, a content smile on her face as she washes the dishes leftover from dinner. It was the least she could do after the lovely evening Wanda had hosted; her sister-in-law had been called upon by the neighbor Agnes for a task that hadn’t quite been specified, so y/n was happy to tidy up while her boyfriend spent quality time with the boys. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt as happy and content as she did now— she couldn’t remember anything, really— and y/n knew then and there that moving to Westview with Pietro had been the right decision for the family, for his sister and themselves, and for the children, too. Yes, everything was just peachy keen.

The kitchen door swings open and in walks a man y/n has never seen before. He looks just as surprised as she is when their eyes meet, an awkward smile on his red face and the morning paper in his hands, and y/n slowly drops the dish she had been washing back into the sink.

“Hello,” the man greets curtly, “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”

“I’m afraid not,” y/n agrees with a bashful smile, quickly removing her rubber gloves so that she may extend her hand towards him for a shake, “I’m y/n, Pietro’s girlfriend.”

“Ah, yes...” he murmurs lowly, cautiously shaking her hand and sizing the woman up and down until she shrinks under his gaze. He means her no harm, but he isn’t sure whether or not she’s part of this cooky little play or just another victim cast under Wanda’s spell. He smiles suddenly, the gesture startling the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Vision.”

“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“May I ask where my wife is?” Vision asks.

“She went off to the neighbor’s,” y/n explains before promptly returning to her dish washing. The radio sounds distant and warbled now, the song she had been singing along to now nothing but static and jumbled up syllables, but to Vision’s dismay she doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest.

“How are you enjoying Westview?”

“I’m having the best time. Pietro and I have been talking and we might just have to hunker down in our own little place,” she says with a giggle. “It would be nice to be closer to you all.”

“I must say, having you and Pietro here was quite the surprise.”

“Not a bad one I hope,” she frowns. Vision guiltily refuses to meet her gaze.

“No, not at all. But, might I ask how you two came to be?” Vision asks apprehensively, adding on so that she doesn’t feel cornered, “I’m sure it must be a lovely story.”

“Oh, yes! I remember it like it was yesterday,” y/n swoons dreamily, a fond smile plastered on her face and her gaze casted out towards the living room where Pietro sits playing video games with the boys. She blinks once, twice, eyes never once leaving the silver haired stranger in the couch. A pregnant pause hovers over the two, the porcelain plate trembles in her hands, and Vision watches in silent horror as her eyes begin to well with tears.

“Y/n?” He calls gently, fingertips carefully brushing against her elbow in an attempt to bring her focus back to him. He removes the plate from her iron grip and sets it back carefully in the sink before turning the girl by the shoulders to face him; she still wears that same adoring smile despite the tears that silently fall down her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” she murmurs quietly, “I can’t seem to gather my thoughts properly.”

“Who did this to you? Was it Wanda? Pietro?” Vision press urgently. Y/n sways slightly when he shakes her by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to break her from her trance but still her smile remains.

“Pietro? Oh, he loves me, and I love him.”

“My dear, I don’t think you do,” the man utters sympathetically.

“Of course I do, silly. We were made for each other.”

“Perhaps you were, but not in the way you think. Y/n-“

“Please let go,” she interrupts in a soft, steady voice, looking up at him like a scorned child, “you’re scaring me.”

“If you would just let me,” Vision begins to say, fingertips reaching for her temple in preparation to break her from the spell only to be interrupted by another presence in the room.

“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” Pietro asks with a raised brow and uneasy laugh. “Hey toaster oven, you mind maybe letting go of my girlfriend?”

“Of course, my apologies,” Vision murmurs, stepping away from the girl and allowing her to run into the arms of her boyfriend.

“You okay, babe?” He asks with a raised brow. She isn’t, not in the slightest, but she has a job to do and a role to play, so she merely bats her eyes at him before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Never been better. Hey, how does dessert sound?”

“I think that sounds lovely,” Wanda chimes, her sudden appearance in the kitchen doorway startling the already present trio. Vision looks like a deer caught in headlights when Wanda saunters over and gifts him with an innocent kiss to the cheek. “Why don’t you and Pietro get the boys settled down while y/n and I prepare the dessert?”

“What a lovely idea, darling,” Vision chimes with an easy smile— y/n isn’t the only one with a role to play. “Come now, dear brother-in-law.”

“Take good care of my girl, little sis,” Pietro calls on his way out. Wanda smiles, her eyes never once leaving y/n’s trembling frame.

“But of course. What is family for? Y/n, be a dear and grab the plates, won’t you?”

“Yes, Wanda,” the girl chimes obediently. She smiles.

“I noticed you seemed a little shaken up just now, is everything alright?” Wanda asks, feigning obliviousness.

“Oh, you know, just some friendly questioning from my new brother-in-law. I’m sure he just wanted to make sure Pietro had found the right match,” she explains with a passive wave of her hand. Wanda hums softly.

“Well we don’t need to worry about that,” she notes. “You’re here for a reason, y/n. Do you know that?”

“For Pietro, and for you,” she replies earnestly, smiling when Wanda takes her hands in her own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always wanted a big family, a real family, one that would never turn its back on you or leave you behind ever again. You want a sister and nieces and nephews and love, and I’m here because I can do all of that and more for you.”

“Exactly right. Family is forever, y/n. Are you ready for the commitment that comes with being a Maximoff?”

“I’ve never been more ready,” y/n responds eagerly. Wanda smiles.

“I’m so relieved you said that,” she utters gently, pulling y/n in for a hug so that she may not see the way in which her eyes begin to glow red and waves of energy begin to emit from her fingertips as she carefully settles herself fully into the girl’s mind. She fills her head with thoughts of Pietro and family, with memories she’s never lived and feelings she’s never had, she fills her with love, and y/n is none the wiser.

“Congratulations, y/n,” Wanda utters quietly, comfortingly stroking the girl’s hair, “you’re a Maximoff now.”

[landinoandco]

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in. 

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control. 

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice. 

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail. 

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins. 

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look. 

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started. 

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time. 

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through. 

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.” 

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter. 

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up. 

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you. 

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you. 

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max. 

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully. 

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not. 

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up. 

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando. 

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.” 

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced. 

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together. 

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.” 

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando. 

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away. 

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips. 

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist. 

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone. 

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.” 

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.” 

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door. 

Distracting the stream from his slip up. 

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own. 

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there. 

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing. 

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms. 

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well. 

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were. 

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera. 

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath. 

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips. 

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration. 

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?” 

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile. 

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been. 

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.” 

He had already started it...

[hyogonokitsune]

blush -- suna rintarou x reader

here’s some soft suna smut, go fetch!

edit: here’s pt 2 and pt 3

virginity loss, slight praise kink, oral (f receiving), whoops! rintarou has feelings

4700 words

--

You were not quite sure how you all ended up on this topic, but it didn’t surprise you one bit that Atsumu was the one to bring it up.

“So how old were ya when ya lost it?” he asked with a grin on his face.

Suna glanced up at the sky as he thought about his answer. “Fourteen, I guess.”  

“Ugh, man! You beat me!” Atsumu groaned in annoyance. “I was fifteen.” It was slight, but you caught Suna giving him a self-satisfied smirk. Atsumu turned to his brother next. “What about you, ‘Samu? I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Pfft, like hell I’d ever tell you,” was the only response he gave.

The four of you were walking through Inarizaki’s dark campus together after the team’s evening practice. It was early autumn, and although the days were still warm, the temperature at night was beginning to dip lower and lower. You shivered as a crisp breeze blew past, digging your hands further into your jacket pockets.

“What about you, y/n?” Atsumu asked, peering down at you. “How old were ya?”

You had hoped he’d forgotten about you, but now that he had directly asked you could feel your cheeks reddening slightly. “I, uh, I haven’t done it yet,” you answered sheepishly.

“What, seriously?! You’re a virgin?” Atsumu’s eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly squinched shut when Osamu smacked him on the back of the head.

“Yell it a bit louder, why don’t ya? I don’t think everyone on campus heard you, dumbass.”

“Ouch, sorry,” Atsumu muttered in apology, but your blush had already deepened. “I’m just a little shocked to learn that our precious manager is a virgin.”

“It’s not really that big of a deal, honestly,” Suna said, his voice low. It was a little unusual to hear him defend anyone, but you were grateful for it all the same.

“Ya know, y/n, if ya ever wanna lose your virginity, I’d be happy to help out,” Atsumu said, giving you a salacious smirk. You rolled your eyes at his offer, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you flicked him on the side of his head.

The path split then, and Suna turned left to continue on by himself to the campus dorms. He waved goodnight to the three of you, and you noticed that his eyes lingered on you for half a second too long before he turned away.

 --

 Click, click, click

Your thumb pressed repeatedly on the end of your pen as you stared hard at the words in front of you.

“Hey, knock it off.” You looked up at the sound of Suna’s voice, his irritation plain on his face. “It’s annoying.”

The two of you were sitting on the floor of his room, Suna propped up against his bed and you leaning against the opposite wall. Loose sheets of paper and an open textbook were on the floor between you as you both studied for an exam the next day.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you muttered, turning your attention back to Suna’s notebook on your lap. You were reading through it, checking that there wasn’t anything he had written down that you had missed in class. In truth, you were finding it hard to concentrate on the notes, as something else was nagging at your thoughts. You hadn’t been able to shake the conversation you’d had the other night, and despite Atsumu’s suggestion, he wasn’t the one you had been thinking about since then.

You had heard rumors around campus, and stories from some of the girls in your classes. At first it had made you a little uncomfortable to know such personal details about someone you had to see every day, especially since he wasn’t aware that you knew, but over time you gradually got used to it, and you were beginning to wonder about what it might be like to experience that firsthand. You were sure that it wouldn’t get out. After all, those rumors that you had heard had come from the girls themselves, never him; if you didn’t tell anyone, no one would ever have to know about it. Besides, after two and a half years spent on the same team, you two had grown rather close. There were few people that you could trust more than him, and, in your opinion at least, that was the most important factor influencing your decision.

You just had to think of a way to tell him.

Suna’s low voice cut through the silence in the room. “Maaan, I’m beat. What time is it?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

You glanced at your watch, sighing a bit when you saw how late it was. “Half past ten.”

“Fuck.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I think we’ve crammed as much as we possibly can for tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you replied as you stood up. The two of you started tidying up his room, and you gathered your books and pens into your bag.

“You want me to walk you to the bus stop?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“’Kay.”

You had your hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, but you found yourself unable to turn it.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, and when he turned to look at you, you felt an unexpected surge of confidence well up inside. If you didn’t tell him now, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to.

Dropping your hand from the doorknob, you angled your shoulders to face him head on, willing yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you to take my virginity.”

There was a slight widening of his eyes, almost imperceptible, but you caught it before his face fell back into its usual indifferent mask. There was a moment or two of silence, and you tried to keep yourself from panicking; maybe he was just trying to gauge how serious you were.

Eventually he spoke, the corner of his lip quirking up into a cheeky grin. “You sure you don’t want Atsumu to be the one?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling. “I think I’d rather die, if I’m being honest.”

Suna laughed then, short but genuine, and you felt the tension ease from your shoulders. “I’ll do it, if that’s really what you want.”

You gave him a quick nod, hand reaching towards the door again.

“Come back here tomorrow.”

 --

 You knocked twice on Suna’s door and it opened almost immediately. He must have just recently gotten out of the shower because his hair was still damp, a droplet of water clinging to a lock of hair next to his cheek as he stared down at you.

“I was half-expecting you not to show up,” he said, a slight smile on his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked as you squeezed past him to step into the room; he offered no response.

You dropped your bag and blazer onto his desk chair, and when you turned around Suna had moved into the center of the room, within arm’s reach.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” There was an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice that made your heart melt.

You gave a slight nod, a small smile on your face. “I’m sure.”

Those two words were all he needed.

Suna closed the gap between you in one step. His left hand came to rest on your waist, his right moving up to cup your cheek as he leaned down to place his lips on yours. His kiss was unexpectedly soft, and you couldn’t stop a tiny gasp from escaping you in surprise. This wasn’t a Suna that you were familiar with; this was a Suna that was unbelievably tender with his touch, but you could feel a more passionate side simmering just beneath the surface by the way that his fingers ever so slowly applied pressure to your waist.

Unconsciously, your hands moved first to his shoulders, then to the back of his head, where your fingers buried themselves in his damp hair. Your touch encouraged him to draw you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist to press you against his body. His kisses were becoming firmer now, deeper, more urgent, his tongue slipping past your lips to brush against yours.

A feeling of warmth was in your chest now, spreading down throughout your body, and with it came a sudden feeling of uncertainty. Suna broke away from you and stepped back to sit on the edge of his bed, and the sight of him there suddenly stole away all the confidence you had felt earlier.

“Come here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The sound of it made your legs feel weak, but you forced yourself to step towards him. His hands moved to your hips, intending to pull you closer, but you put your palms on his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Wait a minute,” you said, a little breathless.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed hard. “I’m just a little nervous.”

You were embarrassed to admit it, but to your surprise Suna smiled, and the gentleness on his face was reassuring. “Yeah, I think it’s normal to be a little nervous.” One of his hands left your hip to move to your elbow. His fingers dragged lightly down your forearm and wrapped around your wrist, so that he could lift your hand and press it against his chest. “I’m a little nervous, too.” You could feel his heart against your palm, beating a little faster and harder than normal. The proof of his own anxiety made all of your apprehensions disappear, and you leaned down to kiss him. Before he could deepen it, you broke away again.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?”

“Could we turn the light off?”

“Of course,” he grinned, leaning over to switch off the lamp on his bedside table.

The room became dark, but the sun had only recently dipped below the horizon and your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold blue light coming in through the window. Suna’s body was outlined against the bed, his features hazy in the dim lighting, but his eyes were clear as he gazed up at you, imploring you to come closer.

He guided you down onto his lap, one of his hands on each of your thighs to place them at his sides. His kisses were needier now, almost hungry in the way that his mouth moved against yours. His hands slid up to rest on your hips once more, and when he slowly tugged them closer, dragging you over his hardening cock, you couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up from your chest. You could feel him grinning against your lips, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed, not when the feeling of his body under your hands was causing that heat to grow in your core.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Suna asked, his voice breathy and low. A blush crept up your face at his words, the tone of them so much more intimate than anything you’d heard before. You grinded against him again, causing him to moan lightly into your mouth.

Your hands slid down to press against his chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He paused kissing you just long enough to take his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor before grabbing your waist and drawing you in even closer. Tentatively, you brought your hands back to his chest. The heat of his skin, the pounding of his heart, his heavy breaths emboldened you, prompting you to explore more of his body. Your fingers traveled lightly over his chest, across his collarbones, onto his shoulders, across the back of his neck, down to his shoulder blades; every place you touched gave way to growing desire.

Suna’s hands wandered up your stomach and over your breasts to undo the buttons of your blouse, but he couldn’t undo them fast enough for you; you suddenly couldn’t stand another moment with the fabric between you, you needed to feel your skin pressed up against his now. Your fingers moved to the bottom of your blouse and quickly worked their way upwards, meeting his in the middle before tearing the shirt from your body.

His eyes roamed over you and he whispered something that you couldn’t quite hear. Before you could say anything, his head moved to your neck, pressing hot kisses into your skin, down the column of your throat and over your collarbones. The top of his head tickled under your chin, making you giggle; his lips left your shoulder with a wet sound as he turned his face up to look at you, but you dug your nails into his arms and whimpered at the loss of his touch.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed.

Suna gripped you tightly around your waist to lift you off of him and shift you so you were lying down on the bed, his body leaning over you. Pulling one of your legs up so that he could position himself between them, he resumed kissing your neck, his warm breath tickling your ear. His hands worked their way down your sides, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake, to come to rest at the waistband of your skirt. He lifted his head to kiss you on the lips briefly before carefully tugging your skirt down over your hips and off your legs. His eyes lingered on your purple lace panties, moved up to your matching bra, and finally to meet your own gaze.

“These are cute,” he said with a smirk, one finger lifting up the band of your panties and letting it snap against your skin.

“Shut up,” you groaned, covering your blushing face with your arm.

“Did you match these just for me?” he teased.

“I said shut up, Rintarou!”

You heard a sharp intake of breath, and lowered your arm to see that the look on his face had shifted into completely unconstrained desire. He kissed you then, tongue forcing its way into your mouth, greedily swallowing your moans. You could feel yourself getting wetter as he pressed his cock in-between your legs; the sensation was becoming almost too much to bear.

Suna pulled away suddenly, and a thin strand of saliva briefly connected your mouths, glinting in the low light. “Hey, do you want me to wear a condom?” he asked, rubbing his thumb slowly over your bottom lip.

“Oh!” You were lying in his bed half naked, and his tongue had just been in your mouth, but for some reason that question made you feel shy all of a sudden. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I’m, uh… I’m on the pill,” you told him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. He only nodded once before leaning in to kiss you again.

One of his hands slowly slid up your side to your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple through the fabric of your bra. When he broke the kiss to move his lips to your neck, you leaned forward slightly to unhook your bra, tossing it on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Suna sucked in a breath at the sight of you, gazing at you almost reverently before placing his lips back on your throat, letting his hand blindly fondle your breast. Moving slowly, he made his way down your throat and over your collarbones, planting sloppy kisses every few inches, until his tongue was swirling small circles around your nipple, feeling it grow harder at his touch. At the same time, his other hand was pressing into your hip, fingers digging insistently into the soft flesh. That hand now started moving down over the outside of your thigh, pausing almost at the knee before running back up along the inside.

You gasped when he touched your clothed pussy for the first time, his fingers brushing against your clit through the fabric. You would have felt embarrassed at the wetness you felt seeping through your panties, but the feeling of having him touch you in so many places was too good for you to care. He was rubbing circles around your clit, causing a knot to form deep in your stomach. You reached with both hands into his hair, gripping the back of his head tightly as a pitiful whimper escaped you.

“Oh, Rintarou…”

“What is it, baby?” He leaned forward to plant a kiss on your cheek, his hand still working slowly between your legs. “What do you need?”

Another pitiful sound left your mouth and your nails dug into his shoulders. He sat up straight, his free hand coming to rest on your leg as his other continued to draw soft moans out of you.

A new feeling had settled in your chest, a need that you had never experienced before. It wasn’t enough to have him simply touch you; you needed to feel him inside of you.

“Rin, please,” you practically begged him, reaching towards the waistband of his sweatpants.

He gently pushed your hands away, a low chuckle rising in his throat. “You’re not ready yet, baby,” he told you in a soft voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Groaning, you fell back into the pillow, your breath coming out harder as he started kissing the inside of your thigh, slowly, painfully slowly, moving closer to where the heat was pooling between your legs. Both of his hands now hooked under your thighs to rest on top of your hip bones, pinning you in place. He kept his eyes on your face as his tongue ran almost lazily over your panties.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut.

“You’re already so wet,” he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He was still licking you agonizingly slowly, relishing the way you squirmed around him. “Do you want me to taste you, baby?”

“Mm hmm,” you answered, a little too quickly in your eagerness to have him touch more of you. He moved one of his hands to hook a finger under your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

His mouth was on your bare clit now, and the sensation was overwhelming. It was different from all the times you had pleasured yourself; this was warm and wet and achingly soft, and it was causing the coil in your stomach to rapidly tighten. He hummed lightly, the vibrations running over your clit and causing you to practically scream. When he lifted his face away from you, you nearly cried. He slid your panties down your legs and tossed them on the floor, leaving you completely bare before him.

Suna leaned back down, tongue running up and down your folds, swirling around your clit, kissing all over your pussy. Every single contact made your back arch, made your hands grip the sheets a little more tightly. He traced a finger along the edge of your pussy, gathering up the wetness before slowly pressing it into you. You clenched around him as his finger curled up to press into the soft spot within you, the spot that made your breath catch in your throat. You opened your eyes to look down at him; his mouth and finger were still at work on your pussy, but his gaze was trained on your face, sage-colored eyes glinting in the dark.

The coil in your stomach finally snapped, your orgasm falling over you in waves of intense pleasure. Your toes curled, legs tensed up around his head, hands reached down to wind into his soft hair.

“Rin-Rintarou!”

Suna kept his face pressed into your pussy, sucking gently on your clit as you came around his finger. The overstimulation was becoming too much, and your breath was coming out in labored sobs.

“Rin, p-please, stop!”

Immediately, he pulled away, crawling over your body to kiss you hard on the mouth. “I like the way you taste, cutie,” he sighed into your ear, nuzzling at your neck. “And I love the way you moan for me.”

You were panting, still coming down from your high. Suna’s hand came up to caress your face, thumb rubbing gently over your cheekbones. He waited for your breathing to even out before sitting up to remove his pants. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his cock looked; you had no reference point, but you were pretty sure he was above average.

He lazily stroked his cock with one hand as he shifted your legs with the other, positioning himself close to your entrance. He dragged the head over your pussy, coating it with the wetness there.

Suna was looking straight at you again. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Yes,” you told him. He leaned down to plant one more kiss on your lips, before slowly pressing his cock into you.

All the time he spent pleasuring you already ensured that you were relaxed enough to take him, but even so, he went slow. He sank in a few inches before pausing, allowing you to adjust to his size as he peppered your face with kisses, before giving you some more. It took a full minute before he completely joined his hips to yours, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, his voice impossibly soft.

“Yeah.” You gave him a small smile, hands running up the backs of his arms to rest on his shoulder blades. It felt so incredibly good to finally have him inside you, to fill you up completely. There had been a slight pressure when he first entered you, but that was subsiding now, and you could fully enjoy the way his cock stretched you out.

Suna pulled his hips away from you, his cock dragging slowly along your sensitive walls. The loss of him drew a soft whimper out of you, turning into a moan when he pushed back in. His pace was unhurried at first, but with each breathy sigh you made he increased his speed, pulling out a little further each time.

“Rin, oh, oh…”

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, lips capturing yours in a wet kiss. “You feel so good, baby.”

He bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make your spine arch, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly to let him know that you wanted more.

“Rin, I-I… oh god-”

He straightened back up so he could look into your face, his thumb and forefinger continuing to play with your nipple. “Does that feel good?” he asked in a low voice. You nodded, eyes squeezed tight against the pleasure, and another soft whimper left your throat. “You’re taking my cock so well, baby,” he murmured; you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten at his praise. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, please, please…”

He quickened his pace even more, hips snapping into yours hard enough now to apply deliciously pleasant friction to your clit. You couldn’t have stopped the sounds leaving your mouth even if you wanted to; every thrust of his cock made you come undone a little more. The pleasure radiated throughout your entire body, making you feel slightly lightheaded.

Suna placed both hands on the backs of your knees and lifted them, pressing your legs towards your chest. The new angle of your hips allowed his cock to press into that spot inside you that made your breath burn in your lungs. The feeling was unbelievable; you had never felt pleasure like this before.

Your eyes snapped open. Suna was staring down, watching his cock sink repeatedly into your dripping wet pussy. When your hand gave his shoulder a small squeeze he looked up, eyes locking with yours. His face was etched with determination, all of his efforts going towards making you feel good. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes contained something that you couldn’t quite place.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” His voice was husky, gaze burning with desire.

“Yes, Rin, please don’t stop,” you breathed out between gasps.

He kept his pace consistent, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again. Your nails were digging into his back, leaving tiny crescent-shaped indentations in his skin. The knot in your stomach was tightening, tightening, tightening—

“Rintarou!” you cried out as the second orgasm overtook you, breath catching in your chest. Your legs trembled under Suna’s hands as he kept fucking you through it, groaning as your pussy clenched around him.

He could feel himself getting closer. He slowed his pace, leaning over to press hard kisses into your neck as you came down from your high. When your breathing started to even out, his lips moved up over your jaw and to your mouth. You kissed him greedily, hands moving to entwine themselves in his hair.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse. He was still moving against you, cock pumping slowly in and out of your pussy.

“Ah… oh,” was all you could manage to squeak out.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled his nose against your neck, warm breath tickling your skin. “Where, baby?”

“Inside… I want you to cum inside me,” you whispered.

With a groan, Suna started thrusting into you harder again. The wetness between your legs was audible with each stroke of his cock, and the sound of it only made him come closer to the edge. The sensation against your clit was pushing you into overstimulation, tears springing up in the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. You reached down with one hand to grasp at his thigh, nails digging into the muscles working to join him to you, desperately trying to pull him closer, closer.

“God, I’m so close…” he murmured, face held so near to yours that your noses bumped each time he pounded into you.

“Oh, you feel so good,” you moaned.

“Can you say my name, baby?” His voice was hardly above a whisper.

“Rin,” you sighed, and his hips snapped into you almost urgently. “Please cum, Rin, I want you to cum for me…”

He buried his face in your neck, groaning deeply as he came. “Fuck.” You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, hot cum spurting deep into your pussy.

He was still for a moment, breathing hard against your skin, before slowly pulling out and rolling over to lie beside you. You felt some of his cum drip out of you, blushing at the sensation. The two of you were silent for a while, your panting breaths the only sounds in the room.

“How was that?” Suna asked eventually, turning onto his side to face you. You suddenly found yourself unable to look at him, pressing your face instead into the crook of his neck and humming contentedly. He chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” he asked, an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice.

“Not at all,” you told him. “I liked it.”

You fell silent again. With your body pressed up against his, you could feel the beat of his heart, slowly steadying from its rapid pace. His skin was so warm, and you didn’t even mind the slight sheen of sweat covering both your bodies. You took a breath, inhaling his scent; you couldn’t describe what he smelled like, you just knew that he smelled good.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you must have been lying there for at least a quarter hour. You lifted your head to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed. Did he fall asleep?

“Rin?” you asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” His response was a low rumble in his chest; you could feel the vibrations against your palm. His eyes were still closed.

“Why were you nervous before?” You wriggled in his arms a bit, trying to get a better view of his face. “I mean, it wasn’t your first time.”

He opened his eyes, only to glance at you briefly before turning his head to look up at the ceiling. “It was my first time with you,” he mumbled, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

With your hand still on his chest you could feel when his heart started beating faster. Peering at his face in the dark, you could have sworn you saw Suna Rintarou blush.

--

➣ masterlist

[angelicyoongie]

Christmas in abundance

— pairing: hybrid bts x human f!reader — genre: fluff! — word count: 4.5K — summary: If the boys wanted to play Secret Santa, who were you to deny them? Though maybe, just maybe, you should’ve thought twice before adding a penalty to the mix. — a/n: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! I hope you’ve all had a good and safe time. This Abundance christmas special does not have anything to do with the original story, so nothing that happens here will affect it. This is a little rough, ngl, but that’s what I get for not writing for a month lol. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!! 

"I'm home!" You shake off the lingering cold with a shiver, the warmth in the house wrapping around you pleasantly as you shrug off your coat. You barely have time to slip out of your boots before a body crashes into yours, a pair of strong arms pulling your body flush against a firm chest.

"You're late," Hoseok whines. The dog hybrid tucks his face into your neck with a huff, nose skimming against your throat as he works to cover the myriad of scents on your skin with his own.

"Sorry, I got held up a work," You sigh. "The office wants to do Secret Santa this year, so we had to figure out who would gift who.”

“Secret Santa?” A puzzled expression crosses Hoseok’s face as he pulls back.

“Oh, it’s a pretty simple game many people like to play during the holidays! You draw a random name, buy that person a gift, and then try your best to keep it a secret that it’s you,” You say, a smile tugging at your lips at how adorably confused the dog hybrid looks. The golden tail behind his back halts its quick movement; Hoseok’s head tilting slightly as he takes in your explanation. His eyebrows furrow as he thinks, an emotion you can’t quite place flickering in his eyes before he suddenly breaks out into a big grin, “Can we do it too? It sounds like fun!”

“Of course!” You say. “Just ask the others if they want to do it to? It won’t be much of a game if it’s just us two.” You reach up to gently ruffle his hair, the dog hybrid nearly falling over himself as he tries to lean into your touch.

“I need to go freshen up, I’ll see you guys for dinner?” You let out a soft laugh as Hoseok nods into your palm, a pout forming on his lips as you pull away.

“I’ll go ask them,” He gives you a bright smile before you turn to hurry up the stairs, more than ready to get into some comfortable clothes. Hoseok watches you leave, his smile falling into a frown as you round the corner.

He quickly walks down the hallway, mouth set in firm line as he turns into the kitchen and says, “We have to be secretive Santa’s.” The room grows quiet as six pairs of eyes find Hoseok’s form in the doorway, their stares a mixture of apprehension and bewilderment at the sudden declaration from the dog hybrid.

“What?” Namjoon sputters.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Taehyung rushes forward to place his hand against Hoseok’s cheek, his fox ears pinned to his head in worry.

“Did you hit your head?” Yoongi leans against the counter with a faint smirk, his dark tail swishing playfully behind his back as Namjoon shoots him a sour look. Hoseok only gives Yoongi a huff in response before he gently removes Taehyung’s hands from his face, pressing a soft peck against his palm at the worried expression on his packmate’s face.

“I’m fine Tae,” Hoseok assures him. “Y/n told me about a game humans play during the holidays. They draw a random person and have to gift them something, and since she’s playing it with her co-workers, we obviously have to play it too. We have to give her the best gift.” Looks of understanding flashes across the other hybrids’ faces, and Namjoon lets out a hum of approval at his packmate’s quick thinking. They can’t have their courting be upstaged by a human.

“But it has to be a secret,” Hoseok’s words are met by a displeased hiss, Jimin narrowing his eyes at the dog hybrid. Yoongi places his hand at the back of Jimin's neck, giving him a comforting squeeze as he says, “Well, it doesn’t really matter who gives her the present, right? As long as whatever we give is better than what the human gives her.” Jimin looks like he wants to protest, but a quirk of Yoongi’s brow in his direction settles him quickly, the younger cat hybrid leaning against his alpha with a defeated pout.

“What about the rest of the presents?” Jeongguk’s soft voice takes them all by surprise, the bunny hybrid hardly ever speaking up when they’re all together in one room. Jeongguk keeps his eyes trained on Hoseok, trying his best to ignore how his body grows more and more tense for each second as the attention shifts to him.

“Uh, I guess the rest will just gift each other something?” Hoseok clears his throat, heat creeping up the back of his neck as he finds himself pinned under the bunny hybrid’s big questioning eyes.

“Boring,” Jimin mutters. As Yoongi’s gaze narrows at his packmate, Seokjin hurriedly adds, ”If it’ll make Y/n happy, then I’m in.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“Me three!” Taehyung grins.

“Sure, we’re in too,” Yoongi waves them off, his hand still tight on the younger cat hybrid’s neck.

“Fine,” Jimin sighs. Namjoon rolls his eyes with a faint smile as Jimin’s tail betrays his indifference, the younger cat hybrid obviously excited at the prospect of receiving a gift judging by the excited flick the end of his tabby tail does. “So we’re all in then,” Namjoon says.

“Great!” Hoseok beams, “I’ll go tell Y/n.”  

❅ 

You grab another box, wobbling slightly as you take your first step down the ladder. You can’t believe it’s almost Christmas already. The last weeks have passed by in a blur of important court cases, and aside from greeting the boys when you leave and come back home from work; you haven’t had any spare time to spend with them. You feel bad. Not only because you miss them, and you know they miss your company too, but also because this is your first Christmas together, and you had wanted to make December as magical as possible. But, thanks to all the late nights you pulled at the office earlier in the year, you’ve earned yourself some extra days off. So, while you might not have been able to make all of December an adventure for them, you’re going to try your hardest to make the next three days leading up to Christmas Eve as fun as possible.

“Hey Namjoon, can you help me with this?” You call out over the boxes stacked in your arms, gritting your teeth as you try to make it down the attic ladder in one piece. Maybe you only should’ve done one at the time, but where’s the fun in that? There’s nothing quite like the idea of falling and breaking a bone to really get the Christmas spirit pumping through your veins.

You let out a sigh of relief as heavy box on top is removed, but the sight that greets you over the cardboard wasn’t one you were ready for. The wolf hybrid has a sweet smile on his face, dimples on full display as he easily hefts the box under his arm. It’s just so domestic that it makes your heart skip a traitorous beat; almost making you miss the last step as you stumble down into the hallway.

“You okay?” Namjoon takes a step closer as he looks you up and down, his free hand reaching for your arm in case you feel unsteady on your feet.

“I’m fine!” You wince inwardly at the high pitch of your voice, plastering on a strained smile as you try to get a better grip at the decorations in your arms. 

“Just, you know .. excited for Christmas!” You barrel past him before he can see the flush creeping up your neck. As you hurry down the stairs, you can’t help but mentally curse yourself for how just seeing Namjoon holding a box and looking cute manages to short-circuit your brain. How the hell are you supposed to survive seeing the rest of the boys decorating the whole house?

❅

“Yoongi, that’s not ..” You bite back a laugh as the cat hybrid ignores you, practically folding himself in half to make sure he fits inside the empty cardboard box. You watch as Yoongi gets up and sits back down, folding his limbs this way and that way until he’s happy with his position.

“What?” He glares in your direction when he notices your amused stare, his tail puffing up defensively as you shake your head.

“Nothing. It’s cute,” You giggle. You turn before you can see the faint flush in Yoongi’s cheeks, the cat hybrid sinking down lower in the box to hide how pleased he is at your comment. You open another box, pulling out the rather tiny assortment of tinsel and garlands you’ve saved over the last years. It might have taken up a lot of room in your old apartment, but you doubt it’ll be enough to decorate past the first floor in this house. You do have time to run to the store and get some more, but even just imagining the crowds doing all their last minute shopping makes you want to shudder. It’ll just have to do this year.

“Hyung, I need those,” You hear a soft grumble from the couch as Jeongguk pushes Seokjin away from the nearly empty popcorn bowl, the hamster hybrid making a discontent noise as it’s moved away from him. The popcorn and cranberry string is looking a little short considering how much you gave them earlier, but you quickly realize the problem when Seokjin turns in your direction. He’s storing his snacks.

The hamster hybrid’s cheeks are so puffed out you’re honestly surprised he can even close his mouth. You stifle your laughter as you turn your attention back to the tinsel, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. It’s honestly adorable, but you know the boys can get embarrassed over instincts they can’t control, so if it’s something as harmless as eating popcorn and taking up residence in a box, you’re more than happy to pretend you haven’t seen anything.

“Hobi, can you help me with this?” You call over the dog hybrid, gesturing to the tinsel. You’re sure it’ll go much faster putting it all on the tree if you’re two people doing it.

“Sure!” Hoseok grins.

“If you go stand on the other side of the tree, we can just pass it back and fourth,” The dog hybrid easily follows your instructions, and you’ve already gotten the tinsel wrapped around the tree a few times before it abruptly stops. You frown, giving it a few tugs in case it got caught on the wrong branch, but it’s not moving. You peak around the tree, confused as to why it’s stuck when you have so much length left, but the reason becomes apparent when you find Hoseok’s hand tightly wrapped around the glittery garland.

“Hobi?” You give it a small tug, and the dog hybrid only smiles sheepishly in response as he immediately tugs back.

“Sorry,” Hoseok whines as he pulls his hand back again, the golden ears on top of his head drooping. “I didn’t let go of the tinsel before you pulled and ..” Ah. You let the garland go slack in your hands, and the dog hybrid only stares at the glitter for a few seconds before his grip loosens as well. His instincts thought you were playing tug of war. “Sorry,” He repeats.

“Hobi, it’s fine! I really don’t mind. Maybe we can play some actual tug of war later if you want to shift?” You offer.

“Really?” You can see the uncertainty still lingering in Hoseok’s eyes, but the tail behind his back can’t help but do a few excited wags.

“Of course. We can go outside the moment we finish decorating,” You grin. Hoseok’s face lights up, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he gently nudges you out of the way, taking the tinsel out of your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone decorate a tree that fast, the dog hybrid practically vibrating with excitement as he shoves a container of ornaments into Jimin and Taehyung’s hands.

“Hurry, hurry,” Hoseok mutters as he throws a look at Namjoon, confirming that the alpha is stringing lights above the window like he's supposed to.

“Right,” You smile, grabbing the closest ornaments to hang them on the tree. You let your eyes drift around the room as you place the first ornament, your chest almost feeling like it’s going to burst with fondness as you see all the hybrids look so focused on their different tasks. It’s moments like this where it’s easy to forget all the arguments and nasty behaviours that have transpired between the packs. You’re not gullible enough to believe that it’ll just be smooth sailing from here on out, but can you always hope. That’s what Christmas is for, after all.  

❅

“Okay! Is everyone ready?” You say, taking your place on the floor in front of the pile of Secret Santa gifts. You honestly feel like you’re going to roll away on the floor if you happen to topple over, your belly full and sated with all the delicious Christmas foods you’ve eaten over the last hours. Jeongguk and Jimin are the first ones to reach your side, each taking up the space next to you as the others settle down in a circle. You’ve been collecting gifts from all over the house, trying your best to keep the whole game as anonymous as possible. You’re about to reach out for the first gift when you remember something you used to do with friends when you were younger, something that make the game a little more exciting.

“Boys, how do you feel about adding a punishment to the game?” Jimin and Hoseok both sit up a little straighter at your words, all the hybrids snapping to attention. The three alphas all share a look, a weird glint in them you haven’t seen before.

“Punishment?” Jeongguk stiffens as the air in the room grows heavier. Maybe that was a poor choice of words.

“Oh no, I meant like a .. penalty? Like if the receiver can figure out who their gift is from, then the giver has to do a penalty?” You say, placing a comforting hand on the bunny hybrid’s knee.

“A penalty is fine,” Jeongguk says, beginning to relax under your touch, “but what would it be?”

“How about the receiver decide the punishment?” Taehyung offers, a lazy smirk on his face as he leans back on his hands, “Wouldn’t that be fair?” You know the fox hybrid always tries to win by whatever means necessary, and that it usually spells trouble for you, but it’s Christmas Eve, so if there was ever a day to indulge Taehyung, this would be it.

“Sure. I don’t mind if the others are okay with it,” You shrug. There’s immediately a small chorus of agreement, and you take that as the go to give out the first present.

“First one is .. Seokjin!” The hamster hybrid takes the present from your hands cautiously, the room falling silent as he unwraps it. Hoseok snorts as he sees the item, the furrow between Seokjin’s eyes disappearing as soon as it shows up.

“Shampoo,” He announces.

“Well?” You prompt when the hamster hybrid places the item behind his back and out of sight, “Who do you think it’s from?” You swear you see the quick flicker of Seokjin’s gaze to Jimin, but it happens so fast you can’t be sure. The cat hybrid still has an easy smile on his face, and there’s nothing in his face that gives him away if he was the one behind Seokjin’s gift.

“I have no idea,” Seokjin shakes his head. “Let’s move on to the next one?”

“Sure,” You try to shake off weird feeling in your gut as you pick up the next gift. There’s no reason for them to pretend they don’t know who gifted them their presents, you must still be stressed after the intense week of work you had before your days off.

“Let’s see .. Namjoon!” The wolf hybrid gives you a bright smile as he takes his present, the grin never leaving his face as he rips through the paper. You notice the bunny hybrid stiffening next to you as Namjoon sees his present, his gray ears twitching slightly.

“A comb,” Namjoon waves it in the air quickly, the motion almost a blur as you only pick up the dark colour before he places it between his crossed legs. The wolf hybrid’s gaze scans quickly around the group before he shrugs, “No clue who it’s from though.”

Jeongguk lets out a small breath of air next to you, and when you think about it, didn’t that blur look similar to the comb the bunny hybrid uses for his ears? Before you can open your mouth to ask, Jimin hands you the next present with a sweet smile. Normally, that would put your worries at ease, but the lazy swishes of the tabby hybrid’s tail just makes you more suspicious. They’re definitely up to something.

The feeling only grows as you work through the presents. The boys casually hide their gifts before you can get a good look at them, and they somehow never know who the giver is, despite it being glaringly obvious whom it’s from with how the other hybrid perks up when their gift is unwrapped. You can’t figure out who gifted you the customized ink pen either, although Namjoon looked particularly proud when you couldn’t wipe the shocked smile off your face.

“This is just what I wanted!” You say. You think you might have mentioned it in passing a while back, but you never expected someone to actually remember it.

“Is it a better Secret Santa gift than the one you got at work?” Hoseok asks. The dog hybrid looks a little anxious, his canines digging into the soft flesh of his lips as his gaze shifts between your face and the gift in your hands.

“Of course it is! Soo-hyun got me an ugly Christmas mug she knew I would hate,” You snort, “There’s no way it could beat this!” You look down at the pen again, just missing the shared expression of relief that crosses the boys’ faces as you admire the sleek black and silver design.

“Anyway, let’s move on to the next gift!” You say. “It’s for .. Yoongi!” You hand the second to last gift to the cat hybrid, Yoongi’s sharp nails slicing through the paper with no trouble.

“A book, wonderful,” He smirks before he places it behind his back. You frown as you see the cover that is all too familiar, is that the book your aunt gifted you those years ago? The heavy atmosphere is back in the room as eight pairs of eyes shift to the last present on the floor. You swallow thickly, trying your best to school your features into something neutral. It’s your gift. And there’s no way you’re going to let him figure out it’s you, not when you were the one to come up with the penalty in the first place.

“Me!” Taehyung exclaims with a boxy grin as he picks up the last gift, his slender fingers carefully opening the paper. The fox hybrid lets out a delighted gasp as he uncovers the console games, his tail swishing wildly behind his back in excitement.

“Thank you Y/n!” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle as he meets your gaze, and the “You’re welcome!” tumbles out before you can stop it. You wince as something mischievous settles in Taehyung’s handsome features, the fox hybrid looking pleased with himself that you managed to slip up.

“How did you know it was me?” You groan.

“You have a tell,” Taehyung says.

You have? .. Crap. “What is it?”

“It’s a secret,” The fox hybrid smirks. Secret Santa was definitely not a hybrid game – the boys had come to realize that as soon as the first gift was handed out. The presents reek of the giver, but of course, that’s not something your human nose would be able to pick up.

“Fine,” You pout, tracing your finger over the pen in your lap, “What’s my penalty?”

The fox hybrid’s face grows serious as his gaze shifts around the room, searching for something to use as your punishment. You can’t help the way your stomach flips with nerves – or is it maybe excitement? – as you wait for him to figure it out. If it’s one thing you’ve come to learn, it’s that these boys are never predictable. Taehyung’s orange ears perk up as his eyes suddenly catch on an item, and Yoongi lets out a low hiss as he follows the fox hybrid’s line of sight. You barely have time to blink before Taehyung springs to his feet to grab your hand, dragging you along with him over to the living room entrance. You suck in a surprised breath as you find yourself standing directly underneath the mistletoe, Taehyung’s hand warm around yours as he gently pulls you a step closer.

“Only if you want to,” He says. Taehyung’s low murmur soothes the nerves prickling under your skin, the obvious fondness on his face easing your fears. The problem isn’t that you don’t want to, it’s that you do. And not just with Taehyung, but with all seven of them.

“It’s okay,” You hesitantly place your hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, the fox hybrid’s muscles jumping under your touch. You spare a glance back the rest of the boys when you notice just how silent the room has become, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you find all six of them staring at the both of you with an intensity you haven’t seen before. You quickly turn your attention back to Taehyung, the fox hybrid’s eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rise up at the tip of your toes.

You ground yourself in Taehyung’s firm grip around your hand, the fox hybrid’s warm breath spilling across your mouth as you lean in closer. Your aim is a little off, the lush dark lashes across Taehyung’s cheekbones distracting you enough that the kiss that was meant for his cheek, ends up at the corner of his mouth instead. When you pull back, you find Taehyung’s wide sparkling eyes already trained on your face, the fox hybrid gazing at your reverently for a few seconds before he dives down to bury his face in your neck.

“This is the best Christmas ever,” You let out a choked giggle at Taehyung’s words, stroking his back affectionately as he tries his best to rub your shared scent back on your skin.

“Me next,” You nearly jump out of your skin as you find Hoseok standing next to you, the rest of the boys lined up behind him with sheepish smiles.

“I thought this was supposed to be a penalty?” You quirk a brow, gently untangling yourself from Taehyung as the dog hybrid begins to move impatiently in place.

“Kissing Taehyung is just nice, it’s not a penalty unless you do it to all of us,” Hoseok whines. You catch Jeongguk nodding his head behind Yoongi’s shoulders, his long ears flopping from the force. Well, you think, what’s the harm?

“Fine,” You usher Taehyung over to the couch, turning back around to face Hoseok. “One mistletoe kiss coming right up.” The dog hybrid practically vibrates out of his skin when your lips touch his cheek, and he doesn’t waste any time mixing his scent like Taehyung had once you pull back.

You can see Namjoon’s silver tail wag behind his back as you place both hands on his shoulders, needing a little extra boost to reach his cheek. A dimple blooms where you delivered a soft peck, and Namjoon briefly touches his cheek against the top of your head before he joins his pack on the couch.

Jimin steps up next, placing his hands behind his back as he offers his cheek with a playful grin. “One penalty please,” He says.

“Of course,” You place your hand on Jimin’s jaw, holding him in place as you kiss his cheek. You catch the slight disappointment in the cat hybrid’s eyes as you pull back, but the gentle touch of your fingertips tracing his jaw is enough to wash it away. Taehyung might be the fox, but Jimin is by far the slyest when it comes to getting what he wants.

“Not yet,” You murmur, taking a step back. Jimin nods, his eyes filled with warm understanding as gently rubs his cheek against your shoulder before he lets Yoongi take his place. The alpha regards you with hooded eyes as you peck his cheek, a faint purr spilling from his chest as he rubs your mixed scent against the opposite shoulder. The soft fur on his ears tickle your throat, and the cat hybrid offers you a low thank you before he steps away.

“You okay?” Jeongguk’s cheeks are bright red as he takes Yoongi's place, but the bunny hybrid hurriedly nods in response. You can almost feel the jittery energy coursing through his body as you step closer, Jeongguk inhaling sharply as your lips make contact with his skin. The bunny hybrid shyly takes your hand in his, bringing it up to rub your wrist against his freshly kissed cheek. Jeongguk hurries off before you can say anything, his tail twitching rapidly behind his back as he joins the rest.

Seokjin has a fond look in his eyes as he steps closer. The hamster hybrid leans down slightly, just enough that his mouth graces you ear as he murmurs, ”You took your punishment well.” You feel plush lips against your cheek before Seokjin pulls back, a knowing smile spreading across his face as your fingers trace the spot he kissed. You stand there a little stunned as Seokjin joins Jeongguk on one of the couches, praying that the hamster hybrid didn’t notice the shiver that bolted down your spine at his words.

You awkwardly clear your throat as you realize they’re all waiting for you to join them, gesturing over to the TV as you say, “Do you want to watch a Christmas movie?” 

You let the boys argue over which movie to watch, quickly putting on your old copy of Home Alone once they’ve decided. You squeeze into the spot between Yoongi and Namjoon on the couch, the two alphas shifting closer the moment you’re settled; their sides flush with yours as you press play on the movie.

As the minutes begin to trickle by, you catch yourself watching the boys more than the colourful screen, a pleasant and comforting warmth spreading through your body as they laugh and giggle at the funny moments. Truthfully, the seven hybrids fill a space you hadn’t even realized was empty. And now – sitting here in your cozy living room with lights twinkling all around, you don’t think there’s anything else you could ever want.

You already have it all right here.

[nincompoopydoo]

Could I request a oneshot with Remus Lupin with the promt "kiss me so i can feel alive again". Also congratulations on 1000 followers 🎉✨💕

ALIVE AND TRUE

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x reader WORD COUNT: 2k (whoops) SUMMARY: Having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. A/N: Thank you for requesting and I’m so sorry for taking so long! This is one of my favorites because it’s so soft and romantic and I adore this request. Please tell me what you think of it xo. WARNINGS: Angst. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

It’s the house you see from trudging down the walkway that forces you to double take your previous steps. Silent and empty, it seems to twist into the forest from afar. Bent trees adorn the lane with overgrown greenery at its feet and ancient brick walls that run along with it. The fields in Yorkshire are vast and immaculate but right now, you are alone and suddenly the far stretch of land doesn’t seem to have the shine of the countryside. Your eyes shift to the house that sits behind a rusted gate, joints barely holding together from the years of rotting and exposure to the heat and rain. It’s barely a house but more of a cottage. No, it’s not even a cottage. Semi-derelict and tumbledown, it looks more like the ruins of what used to be a home.

You look down to the note in your hand, parchment torn at the edges with the cursive words of your handwriting that make up an address and coordinates. Visually, there’s no indication of where exactly you are but according to the coordinates, you are precisely where you need to be. For the past three years, your investigation into finding your friend has proven to be impossible and almost met with the acceptance that you will never see him again. Yet, after an anonymous tip had been owled to your doorstep, indicating the suspicions of the presence of a werewolf somewhere in Yorkshire as overheard by the locals of a nearby town, gave you a tinge of hope to reconnect with someone you lost.

The sight bears a high chance that he may be hiding here, unfortunately. It makes it hard to believe that someone you saw had so much life in him, is living in this condition.

Anxiety starts to creep onto you as you push the worn-down gate. It creaks with the rustling of the wind, a sign of an imminent storm. The sun doesn’t shine anymore, clouds of grey congregate in the skies above in the chorus of rainfall. You don’t do too well with apparition, thankfully having only lost half of your hair during the war. Hence, if the anonymous tip turns out to be a fake, you would have to make your way out of the countryside in the rain or even worse, take the Knight Bus.

You hate the Knight Bus.

Attempting to conjure up whatever courage you have left, you steadily make your way into the compound, plodding through the overgrown grass. As you grow closer, the cottage looks even worse than it was from afar, climbing plants of dull green embellish the walls of the ruins.

Then, in your periphery, you catch a glimpse of violet—Bluebells. The same flowers that used to grow on the forest floor of the forbidden forest. You remember him telling you about how he had seen a white bluebell, rare to its nature.

Warmth fills your chest, you know he is here.

The door is wooden, climbing plants seem to have made their way to it, branching around its handle.

You knock once. No answer.

You knock twice. There’s footsteps, they’re heavy.

With the swing of the door, you are met with none other than Remus Lupin. He looks older, dark circles below his eyes that have lost their intensity of blue, hair unkempt and shabby, and a beard, tracing along his jawline. He has his wand directed to you in defense. Probably because no one ever visits.

The smile on your face is impossible to suppress. It's bright at the recognition of the familiarity of his face. “Remus,” you breathe, eyes crinkling and gleaming with the bliss from the effort and worth of your investigation to find this very man, who stands just a couple of inches away from you. You swallow, not wanting to blink away the possibility that this may all be a dream. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He says your name through a whisper like it’s the answer to the millions of prayers recited and uttered from his lips as he drifts off to slumber under the moonshine, beaming through the shattered glass of the windows by his bedside. He dreams of you, often in times when his body is too weak to endure the aftermath of a full moon.

Yet, you're here and very real.

Then, he watches your grin falter and how your eyes move around the curves of his face. The deep cuts are there and visible. Although magic heals, time and energy play a crucial factor in healing wounds. In an instant, his apprehension creeps in, and suddenly, he feels small. The memories of you are forever intertwined with the rest of his friends, memories too painful to endure.

Your hand reaches out for his face but he staggers back in his step.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean it. Remus really wants you here. To feel your warmth, your touch, the smell of your hair and to hold you but he sees the way you bring your arm down to your side, shoulders slump in near defeat. In reality, you would never let him go that easily.

“Don’t say that, Remus.”

The crinkle of your eyes is gone, now sharp with the frustration of his tendency of locking himself away from the world out of paranoia. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen his face after three long years and he’s already trying to chase you away.

Typical Remus.

An odd sense of nausea takes over him, knees buckling as his surroundings begin to spin like he is on a sailing boat at sea. His body is frail and with a blow, he will fall. His eyes are trained on you as he feels his feet give way and his body drifting towards the ground. Just then, he feels your touch, arms around him like an embrace. You’re holding him in his weakened stance, stabilizing his balance by moving his arm to hang around your shoulder. He immediately shifts his weight on you, uttering a soft apology.

“You don’t have to apologize for something you can't control.” Your voice is soothing, speaking so close to his ear. Your tone is laced with knowing and care. You both know those words have been articulated from your very lips many times before. And your hands are gentle upon the curve of his waist, against the rough material of a dress shirt but your grasp is strong—the true touch of a healer’s hands, precise and careful. Remus always knew you would turn to become a highly-skilled healer.

With every cautious step, the creaks of the parquet flooring are loud and lasting. It’s as if the house itself cries for its condition, like a child with a wound to their knee after taking a nasty fall. The wailing wind outside doesn’t help with the fact that everything seems to be falling apart.

You guide him to the armchair by the fireplace, pressing him by the shoulders to sit. He plops onto the chair with a heavy sigh and feels a sense of regret sinking in his chest at the sight of the visible scowl of your lips and the turn of your brows.

Your open palm finds his cheek. He hears the drag of your deep exhale. You don’t say anything, only to pull out your wand from your back pocket. Yet, Remus is quick to grab your hand, halting you in your movement. Your frown a little deeper, sharp eyes finding him.

“Just let me heal you. It’s the least I can do.”

It’s a promise, a vow, uttered from your very lips filled with dignity and hope. So, he lets you, just to feel you close to him.

—

The rain is yet to arrive. Thunder booming through rolling clouds above and still not a single drop of rain but there’s a peak of sunlight between the cracks of the storm. Maybe, it’s because you’re here and sunshine always seems to trail your steps, no matter where they lead.

Now, Remus is seated on the toilet seat facing you, who has settled for a shaky stool to perch on as your gentle hands hold the edge of his jaw while the other grips onto a straight razor, gazing along the cheek. He cannot take his eyes off the crease between your brows and the way your eyes slowly shift along with the moving blade.

Magic is meant for convenience in small but necessary tasks like these yet you insisted on doing it in the traditional muggle way—using your fingers. Your hands work wonders, beautifully moving as a paraclete. You hold him like you’re maintaining his strength, to keep from fracturing into pieces. You look at him like he’s your masterpiece, carving every curve and bend of his skin and structure.

You lift the blade away from his face, dabbing it onto a rag cloth hung by the sink. Remus finally finds the time to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” You simply laugh and it comes out like a puff of air. Your eyes are still trained on cleaning off the razor. “Of course, I don’t. But, I also don’t want you competing with Dumbledore’s beard.”

Remus laughs, truly laughs. It’s loud and echoes within the walls of the tiny toilet. “I could never beat him.” You’re laughing too, grin wide as ever. Then, after a beat of silence, your grin suppresses into a small smile, lips pressed together as you place the razor aside. You’re clearly in deep thought.

“Come away with me.”

Remus blinks. “What?”

You turned to him, eyes glinting with expectancy. “Stay with me. I live a few blocks from St Mungos...and you get to see me at work.” You watch how his mouth is now agape, half of his chin still in shaving cream.

“And I’m sure you look magnificent in green but you know I can’t—”

“You can, Remus. You can come here a week before the full moon and then come back to my place. I’ll help you heal, a lot faster and you know that’s true. Maybe, I could get hold of aconite for Wolfsbane at the hospital— ”

You hadn’t realized your rambling until Remus began to shake you by the shoulders, calling out your name with an odd sense of serenity and hint of urgency for you to stop. So, your words immediately halt with a turn of your head to meet his gaze. Your expression is soft. His hand drifts to yours, holding it in his. “You know I can’t because if they find out you are living with someone with lycanthropy, you will lose your job and I don’t want you to lose it for my sake,” he squeezes your hand with assurance. “But, thank you. Thank you for always being so kind to me.”

The candle flickers from behind you, sitting idly on the ceramic shelf above the sink. No sunlight beaming through the room and only the hues of flame, beginning to shrink with the melting of its wax. Your hair presents an illusion of golden threads against the candlelight, face as warm as your hand on his as you shift your fingers to the back of his palm. Gradually, you sigh whilst raising his palm to you and press your lips to the arch of his hand. It’s quick but affectionate.

Your stare is strong and his heart stutters for the millionth time since your arrival.

Remus is drawn to you and the thought of how your lips should be on his. He drifts closer, eyes roaming your face, feeling your breath against his skin.

“Can I kiss you?” your question is soft, a whisper, only for his ears. A secret so sacred that you’re afraid nature would hear the words of your confession that was solely reserved for your mind and the man you are confessing to. He nods, it’s slight but it’s true, feeling like this is all a dream. He doesn’t want you to dream anymore. For you are here, hand tangled in his, thinking about his lips on yours.

Then, he whispers as the candle flickers once more. “Kiss me so I can feel alive again.”

So, you do. You kiss him, gentle and sweet, your hand still in his.

[pingutats]

For the “ways to say i love you” prompts, 43 please!

thank you for the request! from this list, prompt 43: "I picked these for you."

warnings: none! this is just fluff!

word count: 1.8k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

This is definitely Harry’s domain.

Y/N hugs her shoulders as she stands in her bedroom-turned-dressing-room, staring at the rack of expensive clothes that have been left for her. Through the door, she can hear the noise of the crew bustling around her living room. This house has, of course, been the site of many Harry-hosted parties that had packed in a lot more people than there are present here today — despite that, this smaller group is threatening to become overwhelming for her.

She’s doing this for Harry. A couple of months ago, he was approached by AnOther Magazine to do a big feature with them — a kind of sequel to the one that he did when they were still called Another Man — and he’s been pouring his heart and soul into it since then. It feels like every single day, he’s been off chatting with a writer or meeting with the creative director. He dragged boxes out of storage to rifle through for mementos of his life as a solo artist last week. Y/N knows that some of their friends have been interviewed to talk about Harry. She’s pretty sure Stevie Nicks is one of them.

The centrepiece, though, is a photoshoot more intimate than he’s ever shared before. In the same way that the shoot set in his hometown years ago illustrated where he came from before he rocketed to stardom, this one will reveal who he is underneath all the make-up and glamour of fame.

Harry as he exists in private: in his home, with his girl, sharing this image of himself for the very first time.

Y/N was apprehensive at first — hell, Harry was too — but they’ve discussed it at length. He’s always been a private man, but his ethos is that honesty is integral to his art. He sings in detail about her in his music and puts that into the world with minimal censoring. This magazine feature, at its core, is just another artistic venture. He doesn’t want to hold back. When she understood it like that, it was easy for her to agree.

Her conviction that this is an important thing to do for Harry doesn’t stop the nerves, though. She’s never been a model, or even remotely a figure of interest beyond her connection to Harry. It’s his limelight that she’s stepping into. She can’t help but feel nervous about it.

The first outfit she’s wearing is a boldly patterned dress, custom-made by Gucci at Harry’s request. This isn’t the first time she’s wearing something this expensive (there are no compromises on fashion when you’re with Harry) but it still makes her feel like a fish out of water. She holds the hanger at arms-length for a moment, vaguely anxious that she might have put on weight since the fitting and it won’t fit her anymore, then carefully slips it off. She steps into it gingerly and shrugs it over her shoulders, then reaches behind her to pull the zip up as far as she can reach. She stands in front of the mirror and looks at her reflection, frowning.

Her make-up, which was done earlier, is colourful and dramatic. The point of this home shoot is to show the dichotomy between Harry’s celebrity persona and his private life, illustrated through the elaborate costuming inside their relatively normal home. She doesn’t recognise herself in it.

There’s a knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She whips around, back straightening. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?” It’s Harry’s voice, and just those four short words in his gentle tone are enough to dissolve some of her anxiety.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself into a calmer headspace. “Yeah,” she answers.

He opens the door discreetly and slips inside, careful not to reveal her to the people in the living room while she’s not properly dressed. She appreciates his caution. Although he’s apparently comfortable enough to walk around near-strangers half-naked—he’s only wearing his boxers right now—she definitely isn’t.

“Everything alright, darling?” he asks. Every step that brings him closer puts her more at ease. She’s always been an anxious person, but he’s like a drug to her. From the very first time they met, he’s been the person she feels most natural with. They just work. Things feel right with him.

She smiles at him. It’s a weak stretch of her lips, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah. Can you zip me up, please?”

“Of course.”

She turns back around to face the mirror and reaches behind her head to pull her hair out of his way. His fingers are warm against bare skin of her back, finding the zipper and dragging it up, his knuckles brushing against her skin more than is probably necessary. He fixes the way the straps sit over her shoulders with the same attention to detail that she’s seen his stylists give for him a hundred times before. His lip is tucked between his teeth as he does so, glancing from the mirror back to her, his face the image of concentration.

Finally satisfied, he takes a step back and rakes his gaze up and down her figure. “Y’look gorgeous.”

She shrugs, staring at herself. “Thanks, H.”

“I mean it.” He plants a kiss on her cheek, holding her by the waist as they look at each other through their reflections. “Pretty dress for a pretty girl.”

Heat rises in her face and she drops her gaze to the floor. “Now you’re doing too much.”

He shakes his head. “‘M not. Promise I’m not.”

She hums, appraising their reflection with a frown. Even in his underwear, Harry is Harry, and she… She feels like she’s playing dress up in someone else’s wardrobe, dipping her toes into someone else’s life. Harry is at ease in a place like this but she certainly isn’t.

Harry seems to sense this. “Something the matter?” he asks her gently.

“No, just —“ she wrings her hands in front of her, searching for the words. “I don’t feel like me.”

He furrows his brow. “I know what you mean. ’S weird when you do all this—” he flutters his hand around the room, at the rack of clothes and towards the door where they can hear someone giving directions to shift the couch slightly to the left “—just to get a photo done. And I know you’re not used to it.” He squeezes her waist gently. “But you look beautiful. Just like you always do.”

She can’t suppress a small smile at that, bumping her head against Harry’s shoulder with a quietly mouthed, “Thank you.”

He turns his head to kiss her hair, then releases his grip on her waist and moves over to the rack of clothes. “But did y’see…” He bends down to pick up a plastic container marked Look 1 from the shelf at the bottom. He opens it up to reveal various pieces of jewellery inside, and delicately picks out a couple pieces with nimble fingers. “I picked these for you.”

They’re her earrings. More specifically, they’re the earrings that he gave her for their first anniversary. A couple of dangling pearls—he’d bought them during his obsession with the gems. They’re a sweet memento of that time of their lives, of the honeymoon phase that felt like it lasted forever, that never really fizzled out even to this day. They’re her favourites.

She realises her mouth has dropped open. “When did you sneak those in?” she asks.

He shrugs, smirking. “I have my ways. I’m sneaky.” He returns to his previous position standing behind her, nudging her hair behind her ear with his knuckles. “May I?”

She nods, trying not to shiver as his fingers brush against her ears.

“There we go,” he says, stepping back. “Is that a bit better?”

The girl in the mirror looks familiar now. Despite the make-up and the dress, she can see herself. The same face, framed by the same earrings, that has accompanied Harry through all sorts of days and nights. Today is just another one of those things. Something they’re doing, together, and isn’t that all she wants, for them to do everything together?

Being with Harry is a dream she never wants to wake up from. They’ve built a paradise together and now they get to share a tiny part of it with the world—not for the world to share in it, but to see just how beautiful it is.

There’s a little part of Y/N that hopes it makes the rest of the world jealous. They should be, she thinks.

“It’s perfect, H,” she tells him, glancing over her shoulder so she looks at his real face, not just his reflection. “Honestly. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He looks proud of himself—his eyes are shining and his dimples are on display as he looks her up and down once more. “It’s all you.”

Y/N mirrors him, her gaze travelling down his body. She bites her lip.

Harry seems to remember suddenly that he’s only in his underwear—his hands fly to cover his thinly-clothed privates and he looks at her, his mouth open in a sly grin. “This is not the time,” he scolds, his shoulders shaking as he suppresses laughter.

Y/N rolls her eyes, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him to turn around. “Go get dressed, you dork.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

The suit that Harry wears is made out of the same material as Y/N’s dress, bright and bold colours. The photographer is accomodating of her nerves as he has them sit on the couch. The window is wide open to allow the natural light to illuminate their faces, and the Y/N can feel the warmth of the sun on her face. The sky is a brilliant blue. It’s a perfect day.

“Okay, look this way,” the photographer tells her, drawing her attention from the window to the camera. “A little closer, Harry.”

Harry shifts over, his thigh pressing against hers. His hand comes to rest on her knee, then lifts suddenly as if he’s remembered something. “Hang on a minute,” he says to the photographer, holding up a finger.

He twists around to face Y/N and carefully sweeps her hair back over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear to ensure the pearl earring is on clear display. She smiles at him, which he returns in a quick unspoken exchange of gratitude and care.

“Alright,” Harry says, settling back to face the photographer. His hand finds Y/N’s and he squeezes it. “We’re good.”

The camera clicks and the flash goes off. Their hands remain joined on Harry’s lap.

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, a reblog & any kind of message would be really appreciated. i'm open to any requests, from the prompt list linked above or from your own imagination, which you can send here. all my other writing is linked on my masterlist. have a lovely day!

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

[joonie-beanie]

Missing Ingredient

Pairing: Solomon x Reader

Word Count: 5,467

Preview: Solomon needs help obtaining some "nectar" for a spell he wants to try, and asks you for your assistance.

Unbeknownst to you, the so-called nectar he needs isn't from a flower at all.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

I wrote this after getting inspired by one of @/shokujin-art’s pieces with Solomon and their MC Ethan!

WARNING: This chapter can be considered dub-con. If dubious consent makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

“I need your help.”

The smile on Solomon’s face is a little disconcerting. After all, usually it’s not he who is asking you for help, but…you decide to hear him out.

“With what?”

Your gaze is openly skeptical as you regard him, but his smile doesn’t waver.

“I need nectar for a spell I’ve been wanting to test out for a while. I was wondering if you could help me in that regard.”

You blink at him, confused. Nectar? How the hell are you supposed help with that? It’s not like you’re an expert with flowers, and you certainly have no idea about flowers that reside in the Devildom.

“You…want me to help you find…nectar?”

He nods, bringing a hand up to his chin—his eyes turning towards the ceiling.

“Well…basically, yes.”

You narrow your gaze at his phrasing, concern growing by the moment. Exactly what the hell is Solomon playing at? You know he’s a bit of a sketchy bastard, and sometimes you feel like he can’t be trusted, but…so far, he hasn’t wronged you.

…that counts for something, right?

“Listen,” you say, poking a finger into his chest. His eyes widen at the action, and he pauses—staring at you as you continue to jab him. “I’ll help you, okay? But I better not be harmed on this journey to achieve whatever “nectar” you need. Got it, wizard boy?”

Solomon rolls his eyes at your nickname—catching your finger when you move to press your nail into his chest once more.

“You won’t experience any pain,” he says, laughing quietly. His eyes crease, a handsome smile lighting up his face, and for a second, you forget about your worries.

“I promise.”

The next weekend, you get a text from Solomon demanding that you come over to Purgatory Hall.

Today is the day—he needs your help with his nectar issue—and so, you pack up your bag and head over.

You’d attempted to ask him what retrieving this nectar would entail. After all, did you need to dress in hiking boots?? Would he be taking you out into the Devildom wilderness to try and find some rare, valuable flower?? But Solomon had refused to reveal any details.

He’d simply explained that it may take a few hours, and that you should just bring yourself, and any basic necessities.

So now, here you are—standing on the step to Purgatory Hall—waiting for Solomon to come and let you in. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the grand wooden door is pulled open.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble as he ushers you inside. The sorcerer can only laugh, keeping pace beside you as the two of you traverse the halls—heading towards his room.

“Sorry,” he says. His hand moves to wipe at his brow. You notice the tiny beads of sweat sticking to his skin, and curiosity fills you. “I was preparing.”

“Preparing for what?”

Again, Solomon reveals nothing. He easily laughs off the seriousness of your question, waving a hand in front of him as if to try and dissipate any of your worries.

“Preparing to retrieve the nectar,” he responds after a moment, flashing you a small smile. “I’ve been trying to gather the ingredients for this spell for many, many years, and this is the last, and hardest one to collect.”

“And…you need my help in particular with this…why?”

Your eyebrows are knit together on your forehead, and you’re sure that Solomon notices your trepidation, yet he chooses not to address it. Instead, he continues a few more strides up the hall before stopping.

You’ve already arrived at his room.

He reaches out to grab the doorknob, his silver eyes darkening playfully as he regards you. The subtle shift in his demeanor has butterflies tickling the inside of your stomach, and you swallow nervously.

While you’re not as magically inclined as Solomon, you can still feel the magic leaking from inside of his room. He obviously has something planned for you once you step inside, but you’re not sure what.

“…you promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” you remind him, pouting angrily—attempting to hide your apprehension. Your words have Solomon rolling his eyes, and he releases the door knob.

Standing straight, he jerks two of his fingers towards you, and suddenly a golden magic circle encases one of your wrists.

Your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can think to say anything, he’s making another motion with his hand. Quickly, the magic circle tugs you forward, and within seconds, you find yourself directly in front of Solomon.

His previously kind smile is now replaced with something more akin to an amused grin.

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” he asks, free hand moving to gently brush a few stray hairs from your face. The gesture contradicts his current attitude, making you feel torn. Anxiety and excitement mingle in your gut—both turned on and concerned by your predicament.

“You did, but you’re kind of a bastard, so I want you to reassure me…,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you stare at him.

This isn’t exactly the first time Solomon has used his magic to fluster you. No, many times now he has casually used spells to fuck with you—making you more sensitive to the touch, or creating a brief gust of wind to flip your skirt up while at RAD. It has kind of become your thing—picking on each other, with Solomon bridging into sexual territory every so often.

Actually...you’d made out with him a few weeks prior—both of you slightly intoxicated, and drawn in by the club music at The Fall—but it had never gone beyond kissing, and groping. Despite that, the sexual energy between the two of you had been palpable.

Yet, nothing had come of it. You’d mutually parted—preserved your friendship—and gone your separate ways that night. You’d assumed that Solomon simply wasn’t interested in doing those kinds of things with you—that any playfully sexual advances towards you were done in the spirit of friendship. Which you were okay with.

But…now that you’re standing here—hair risen all across your body at the magic leaking from his room—you know that he has big plans. And judging by the glint in his eyes, and the way his thumb is carefully caressing your cheek—you’ll certainly be in for a treat.

“When you step beyond the threshold of this door, no harm will come to you,” he speaks calmly, dipping down to press a soft kiss to your lips. Almost instantly, you’re melting into him—heart hammering against your ribs as your defenses are so easily torn away.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, and his fingers leave your face. You hear the doorknob turn.

“I shouldn’t, but I do.”

He laughs at that, and in the next beat, he’s pulling you inside.

His room is just like you remember it—spacious, and dark. His desk is littered with an army of ingredients, and spell books. His bed is nicely made, and there’s a single, leather armchair tucked into the corner of the room, near the fireplace.

The only thing out of the ordinary is the golden blob of magic sitting in the center of the room. There’s an intricately drawn circle of chalk surrounding it—many runes, and foreign words tied into the dormant spell.

“I’m beginning to think that this “nectar” you need isn’t exactly from a flower…,” you mumble, sending him a little look when he once again uses the magic circle around your wrist to force you farther into his room. Solomon only smiles, guiding you forward until you’re standing inside the chalk ring—the blob of magic at your feet.

“To be honest, for the longest time I thought I was searching for a rare flower,” he says, sighing as he recalls his strife. His footsteps echo throughout the silent room as he scoots arounds the circle, shaking his head in disappointment. “This is a spell I found in an ancient text, and the words were quite hard to decipher. At some point, I picked out the word “nectar”, but figuring out what kind of nectar took far too long.”

As he speaks, you feel the spell at your feet start to buzz to life. And when your gaze flickers to the floor, you note that the blob of magic is starting to…move?

With each passing second, as the spell activates, the ball of golden magic expands and contracts—bulging here or there. You’re forced to divide your attention between Solomon—who is now standing in front of the leather chair—and the magic at your feet (which looks ready to explode).

“Solomon…,” you speak nervously, gasping when a second magic circle suddenly encases your free wrist. You turn to look at the sorcerer just as he jerks his fingers towards the ceiling—forcing your arms high above your head, where the spinning circles then merge into a single, larger one.

“H-Hey! You still haven’t told me what the hell is going on!” you stutter, feeling warmth on your cheeks as you realize your current state of vulnerability. With your hands bound like this, there’s no way you can escape whatever Solomon has planned.

“And yet, you still look like you’re enjoying this,” he teases you. You attempt to glare at him, but there’s no real power behind it, considering he’s right.

“Bastard…”

Solomon laughs at that, and he steps into the chalk circle without warning. His hands find your waist, and he kisses you without an ounce of hesitation. His lips are firm, and warm—moving against your own languidly, like he’s got all the time in the world.

The show of intimacy successfully distracts you from the ball of magic at your feet. Well…at least until the energy takes a new form—multiple, long limbs of magic shooting out, and wrapping around you.

“Mmph!” you squeal around his tongue, rearing back in shock. You look down, wriggling as the warm tendrils of magic climb your body. One is already hugging your waist—replacing the feel of Solomon’s hands as the wizard takes a step back—watching everything unfold with a self-satisfied grin spreading across his lips.

“Basically,” he speaks, calm as ever—as if you aren’t being molested by magic. His magic. “I finally figured out that the “nectar” I’ve been searching for is the arousal of a human. The product of their pleasure.”

His words have you feeling even hotter—an embarrassing gasp leaving you as one of the tendrils wraps around your thigh, and wiggles against your clothed sex.

“Really, of course I finally figured it out once I’m here in the Devildom.” He shakes his head, crossing his arms disappointedly. You bite your lip, trying to stifle another lewd sound as the tendril around your waist curls up between your breasts.

From what you can tell, there are 2…well, tentacles of magic in total—with one occupying your legs, and the other busying itself with your torso.

“I-If you need human arousal, why not use your own?” you ask him, already quite breathless. The sound makes Solomon’s eyes sparkle.

“What? You think I want to sit around and jerk into a cup for god knows how long?” he laughs, eyes raking down your body. His gaze stops near your hips, and he makes a motion with his hand. In response, the tentacle currently rubbing softly against your pussy pulls away—hooking under the waistband of your pants.

In one swift motion, it tugs the garment down your legs, and discards it onto the floor. You flush hottly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to preserve a sliver of modesty—but the tendril of magic easily slips its way between your legs, once again rubbing against your pelvis.

“And besides, this route seemed much more fun.” He smiles cheekily, a dark sort of amusement lingering in his silver gaze. “I always pegged you as the type to enjoy a situation like this anyway. You know, a damsel in distress with a bit of kink and sex thrown in.”

You send him another look, but can’t say anything. Because…he’s not necessarily wrong. You can’t deny his words, nor can your body deny its reaction to your current predicament. Each pass of the magic between your legs or against your breasts has arousal pooling in your gut.

“Of course, if I’m wrong, just tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Despite the teasing look on his face, his words are genuine. He won’t do anything you’re not okay with. Even if he needs the ingredient for his spell, it seems he’s not entirely an asshole. At least, not to you.

“N…no…I’m okay with this,” you admit meekly, causing him to smile. “But…how are you retrieving the… um…”

You’re too shy to say it, now, realizing what the nectar actually is.

“Well, I did mention that all of this took time to prepare,” he responds, allowing the tendrils of his magic to continue roaming your body freely. It seems like he’s able to control them when he wants, but otherwise, they’ll continue working towards their goal on their own.

“Since I was able to get you to agree to help me out—”

“Without telling me what would actually be involved.”

He sends you a look—a little annoyed at being interrupted despite so kindly answering all of your questions.

“Oh I’m sorry—,” he makes a motion with his hand, and suddenly the tentacle around your chest is tearing your shirt away with a definitive rip. In the same beat, the tentacle between your legs slips beneath the crotch of your panties—tugging them off your body.

Somehow, it manages to discard the garment near Solomon’s feet, so he bends down and picks up the cotton fabric with a smile—the large spot of arousal hard to miss, even in the dim light of his room.

“—but do you really have the right to be sassing me about my ethics, when you’re already wet enough to stain your panties? Clearly, you’re turned on despite me not telling you, love.”

You open your mouth to attempt to defend your pride, but the only sound that comes out is a lewd gasp. The smooth magic between your thighs resumes its motions—now rubbing up against your wet pussy with no barrier. The contact makes you ache—your clit already so sensitive to the touch—and a satisfied grin settles on Solomon’s face.

“As I was saying,” he continues with his explanation calmly, but his gaze doesn’t leave the sight of you. With your panties gone, and your shirt in tatters on the floor, the sorcerer would be a fool to not watch the show unraveling in front of him.

“It took time to prepare. I had to figure out what would be the best way to retrieve the nectar without letting it go to waste. After all, sex can be so messy.”

Solomon pauses for a moment, soaking in the sound of your voice as you whine—your body flushed from head to toe as the thick tentacles of his magic keep their pace, rubbing against you in all the right places.

His slacks are beginning to feel a little tight.

He coughs.

“Basically, the raw magic will absorb your “nectar”, and will keep it trapped until I can draw it out.”

“S-So what?” you whimper, fingers helplessly curling and uncurling above you. His magic circle allows your wrists no wiggle room. “Y-You’re just going to sit here and watch your magic molest me until you’ve collected enough of my arousal for your spell?”

“Molest is a strong word,” Solomon says, seating himself in the leather chair. He leans back, letting his legs spread wide, and your eyes fall to the tent in his pants. “I prefer fondle. Or, pleasure. After all, you’re feeling a fair amount of pleasure right now, aren’t you?”

With a small inclination of his fingers, the tentacle between your legs pulls back—the thick, rounded tip pressing directly against your clit. It moves in miniscule side to side motions, and Solomon sees the way your entire body flexes—thighs shaking with each pass over your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you pant, arms straining against their bindings. The wizard chuckles.

“Shall I make you cum like this? Or would you prefer to wait? Personally, I have no qualms making you orgasm until you’re begging me to stop, but I also don’t want to break you. You’d be a pain to put back together.”

“Asshole,” you remark.

With the tentacle still swiping across your clit, you know it won’t be long until you reach your climax. And while you know cumming will only serve to make everything more sensitive afterwards, you can’t bring yourself to pass up the offer of an orgasm. You’re already too close, and your body is begging for a release.

“I…I want to cum. Please.”

“Look at you, saying “please” even though you’re calling me an asshole.”

You so desperately wish he was within kicking range, because if he was, you would absolutely lift your leg and wipe that cocky grin straight off his face.

Luckily, the magic between your legs quickly distracts you from your anger towards the sorcerer. 

As if hearing your plea to cum, it begins to work even faster—searching for the pattern that will undoubtedly drag you into the depths of your pleasure. And once it finds it—lewd gasps and moans falling from your lips—the tentacle keeps at it until you’re tumbling into your release.

Sensing your orgasm, the magic limb presses up against your pelvis. It slots between your folds, rubbing languidly as you experience your high.

You can only guess that it’s currently collecting all of the precious “nectar” that has leaked from your throbbing pussy following your climax.

“Shit…”

Apparently willing to give you a moment to breath, the magic tendril occupying your sex continues its slow motions. In its place, the tentacle that had been lazily fondling your chest until now gets to work. It fully wraps around both of your breasts—squeezing, and tugging—almost as if it’s attempting to milk you.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation—quiet, hot breaths filling the space in front of you as the tailend of your orgasm finally passes. Yet, you can still feel the embers burning in your gut, threatening to reignite with any simple touch.

“Feel good?” Solomon questions, drawing you out of your haze. Your eyes fall to him, heart thundering in your chest when you notice that one of his hands has strayed beneath his trousers—fingers enclosed around his length through the fabric of his underwear.

“Perverted wizard,” you speak instead, completely ignoring his question. The smallest of grins grace your lips, a breathy laugh leaving you. “Getting so hard from watching me. Shouldn’t you be ashamed?”

He chuckles at your words, looking amused by your wit.

Truly, you’re a fool to be speaking to him like that, as if he isn’t the one in charge right now. While he’s been kind to you thus far, he has no issue in changing that.

“Be a good cock slut and shut the hell up.”

He flicks his fingers, a fake smile plastered on his face, and in the next moment your pussy is filled to the brim with his magic. The tentacle reaches deep—snaking between your walls until the soft head is pressed flush against your cervix.

The abrupt intrusion has you crying out, wrists once again straining against their bindings as you struggle to adjust to the new sensation. And yet, Solomon grants you no grace period.

The magic begins to move—sliding in and out of your wet walls at a swift pace that has your mouth opening, but no sound coming out. At the same time, the tentacle at your chest squeezes harder, the tip of the appendage moving to swirl around one of your hardened nipples.

“S-Solomon,” you choke out, knees buckling under the intensity of his magic. The way his name sounds falling from your lips—desperate and overwhelmed—has his cock jumping against its confines.

His jaw clenches, fingers squeezing a bit tighter as he strokes himself.

“I’d slow their pace down, but I can hear how wet you are from here,” he remarks, silver gaze falling to the space between your thighs. As the tentacle grinds inside of you, small amounts of your arousal are soaked up by his magic. As they’re absorbed, the liquid pools in the main body of the magic—the blob still resting at the center of the chalk circle which is keeping his spell active.

“I called you a cock slut teasingly, but it seems you actually are one. How precious.”

“Fuck off,” you pant, body writhing as the embers in your gut quickly reignite into flames—hot, intense, and growing with each second that passes.

He laughs at your exclamation, pressing to his feet. With deft fingers, Solomon quickly rids himself of his pants, and underwear—the pieces of clothing lying abandoned on the floor beside your own. And when he moves forward—once again entering the magic circle, and stepping into your personal space—you feel your heart skip a beat.

Your pussy clenches around the tentacle still working inside of you, nervous butterflies blooming in your tummy when you see the dark look in Solomon’s eyes. Like he’s finally giving you a glimpse of the real him—not the kind façade he always shows in front of the others.

“If you’re going to use your mouth in such a vulgar fashion, I know a better way.”

Suddenly, without warning, the magic circle encasing your wrists presses downward—forcing you to your knees. The tentacles adjust accordingly, but continue their ministrations as normal. The new position, however, has you eye-level with Solomon’s weeping cock.

“Say ah,” he says, canting his hips forward. The tip of his length smears against your hot cheek, and you flit your gaze up to him—aroused, and a little scared.

He’d be lying if he said the fear didn’t turn him on.

“No?” Solomon tangles a hand in your hair—firm, but not enough to hurt. He holds your stare, his eyes expectant. Yet, he doesn’t force himself upon you. After all, he gave you his word that he wouldn’t hurt you, and while right now he would love nothing more than to stuff your mouth with his cock, he won’t if it’s pushing you too far.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves (although it’s not easy to do, considering the two tentacles that are still very bent on pleasuring you for the sake of your “nectar”). Then—

You part your lips, hot breath fanning against his length.

“Aaah—”

Solomon looks genuinely surprised for a moment. However, he definitely won’t be wasting such a perfect opportunity.

“Truly a cock slut,” he says by way of praise—sliding his cock into your mouth before you can even think of responding.

The moment he hits the back of your throat—making you gag—you realize what you’re in for. There’s no way you’re making it out of this situation sane. Not with Solomon fucking your mouth, while his magic devastates your pussy, and fondles your chest.

In contrast to the quick, brutal pace the tentacle currently occupied with your sex has taken, Solomon starts off slowly. He rocks himself into your mouth, his silver eyes focused on you as your lips suction around him. Each time, he ventures deep—his cock sliding into you until you can take no more.

Tears blot your eyes, body tensing as you resist the urge to gag around him once again. Solomon notices your struggle—watching the way your fingers curl into fists. A part of him debates being nicer. You’re already struggling thanks to the ministrations of his magic, after all, and yet—

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

He reaffirms his grip on your hair—holding your head steady as he begins rolling his hips. He’s still not as fast as the tentacle devastating your pussy, but his slow pace is no more. No, he fucks you quick enough that you don’t have time to steel yourself for the sensation of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

So now, along with the wet, slapping sounds already filling the room, your frequent, helpless gagging can be heard as well.

To Solomon, it’s music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me “yes”. I can already see the answer with how much of your arousal my magic is collecting,” he says, breathing a laugh. “Seriously, you’re the one that should be ashamed, Y/N. You stand there and tease me for getting hard, but you’re the one positively leaking right now. Do you want to be even more stuffed? I could create a third tentacle if you like.”

“Nn—,” you attempt to shake your head, tears finally rolling down your cheeks. You already feel like you’re going insane. There’s no way you’d be able to handle anything more than this.

Solomon grins at your response, purposely grinding into your mouth, and holding himself there. He watches as you flounder—body writhing against the bindings at your wrists. 

Even as you struggle to breathe, you can feel the orgasm building inside of you.

You choke down a sob.

Solomon’s magic is relentless. You have no idea how long it’s been—how long the tentacles have been teasing you—have been trying to milk you for all that you’re worth—but it’s been long enough to bring you to the edge once more. And each time Solomon forces you to gag around him, you only inch closer.

“Mmph,” you whine pathetically around him, your body shaking as your pleasure continues to build to a peak. It won’t be long until you’re sent tumbling over the edge a second time, and once that happens, you’re not sure how much more you’ll be able to take. Your brain already feels like it’s on the verge of short-circuiting.

“This is a good look on you—,” he comments. Sweat has beaded on his brow—stray strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, and you’re mad that he still manages to appear so handsome despite his disheveled state.

“—ruined, and on the brink of orgasm. You’re going to cum again, right?”

Your noise of admission is lost around his cock as he continues fucking into your mouth. However, he doesn’t need to hear your agreement. He can already tell—what, with the way your eyes are practically ready to roll back into your head.

“You should wait for me,” he says, amusement tugging at his lips when he feels you whimper. “Can you manage that?”

Without waiting for your muffled attempt at a response, Solomon thrusts become rougher. He fucks into your throat, groaning at the way you instinctively gag and swallow around him. Saliva pools at the corners of your lips—slipping down to your chin and mingling with the tears that have fallen from your eyes.

You’re so overwhelmed. You’ve never experienced so many sensations at once, and while you try your best to hold out for Solomon—to be good, and wait for him like he’s requested—you can’t. It’s impossible.

With a strangled cry, you come undone. Your body thrashes, your head naturally attempting to pull away from Solomon for much needed air, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“Ah, if only you had waited a little longer,” he remarks, disappointment in his tone. He lowers his other hand to grab your head, and more tears pour down your cheeks as he face fucks you to his heart’s content—even as your orgasm continues to roll through you.

Luckily, the sorcerer isn’t very far behind. He finds his release just as your orgasm is beginning to subside, the tentacles that are assaulting you finally beginning to slow their ruthless pace. 

Gripping your hair, he forces himself deep into your throat—a dark satisfaction settling in his gut as he watches you choke on his seed.

“Swallow like a good girl,” he chides, one of his hands moving to wipe away your tears. As best you can, you swallow around him—puffy eyes turning up to him. The pleading look on your face successfully softens his heart, and with a sigh, he releases your head.

Immediately, you’re pulling back—coughing and gasping for air.

“P-Please, I can’t…anymore…,” you beg, voice raw. The tentacles have started picking up their pace once again--ready to resume their duty after having given you a few minutes to rest.

Solomon clicks his tongue, his silver gaze dropping to the mass of magic on the floor. There’s a fair amount of your “nectar” that has settled at the bottom of the orb. Enough that Solomon will be able to attempt his spell more than a few times.

So, with that in mind, he releases you.

The tentacle around your torso unwinds—your breasts feeling used, and sore from its touches. At the same time, the magic stuffing your pussy slowly pulls out—the limb soaking up whatever excess arousal you have to offer as it retreats.

Before long, the two tentacles have remerged with the ball of golden magic—the light from the spell circle fading as everything settles back into place. Once he’s sure that your precious juices are properly kept, Solomon waves his hand, and the magic binding your wrists disappears.

Almost instantly, you’re falling forward—catching yourself on your hands and knees, fingers smearing through intricately drawn chalk lines. Solomon kneels in front of you, brushing your hair from your eyes.

“You did well,” he says.

“You’re the worst,” you respond. 

Your entire body feels like jello. You’re not even sure there’s any blood left in your arms.

He chuckles.

“Fine, I’m the worst.”

Grabbing you beneath your arms, Solomon helps you to your feet, and leads you over to his bed. He throws the sheets over you, and then moves to retrieve the blob on the center of his floor. He gingerly places it on his desk—resting it atop a plush cushion, like a prized pet.

His eyes linger on it for a few seconds, satisfied. Then, his silver stare turns back to you—his sheets rustling as you settle yourself in.

There’s absolutely no way he’ll be kicking you out anytime soon. If you can barely walk to his bed with his help, there’s no chance that you’ll be able to walk all the way back to the House of Lamentation.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind your company. He’s got a heart inside of him, even if parts are stained black.

“I’ll go get some water,” he says. However, just as he’s brushing past the bed, there’s a knock at his door.

He pauses at the sound, and you hold his sheets tighter around your naked body.

Eyebrow raised curiously, Solomon strides to the door and pulls it open. Standing on the other side is a red-faced Simeon. He looks both angry, and embarrassed.

Solomon’s heart drops.

Despite all his preparation, he’d forgotten to enact a noise blocking spell…

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right,” Simeon responds, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky Barbatos agreed without question to teach Luke a new recipe despite me calling him last minute. Once I heard you and your partner…going at it. You live with a child up the hall, Solomon.”

Solomon sighs. “I’m sorry. I meant to cast a spell to block the noise, but I forgot.”

“Next time, don’t forget, or I’ll have harsher words to say to you.”

“Very much noted.”

“Good.” Nodding, Simeon turns to stalk away from the wizard, but pauses.

“Oh, by the way, you mentioned inviting Y/N over this weekend. Are you still planning to do that? I’d love to see her.”

“Uhhh…,” Solomon resists the urge to glance back into his room, towards the bed where you’re currently hiding yourself. “Yeah. She should be over later. I’ll let you know when she gets here.”

“Good!”

Smiling, Simeon disappears up the hall. Solomon shuts his door, and from beneath his covers, you quietly scream.

“Simeon heard us fucking!! What’s wrong with you!!”

Again, Solomon sighs.

“Yes, yes, we already agreed—I’m the worst. Now pipe down, or I’ll have to shut you up again.”

When you actually cease your scolding words—glaring at him over the edge of his sheets—Solomon cocks an arrogant eyebrow.

Well then, he certainly knows the best way to get you to shut up from now on.

[sabxism]

But I’m Here In Your Doorway

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Based on these lines from this is me trying: 

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway

Word count: ~2.6k

Warnings: mentions of and encounter with possible suicide, injuries (blood, bruises, etc), mention of (previous) deaths

Summary: reader loses everything. after she nearly makes an irreversible decision, she goes to Poe for help. 

GIF not mine

The screams of your squadron members bounce around in your head. It was your fault, you knew that. You shouldn’t have set off without checking your ship. Without checking for any trackers. So it wasn’t a surprise when, out of nowhere, a group of TIEs burst out of hyperspace, straight into your fleet like pins being knocked over by 30 flying bowling balls. You had watched, helplessly, as your friends - your family - were picked off one-by-one. As they went up into terrifyingly bright balls of gas and flame and smoke. It was your fault. All your fault. 

Part of you was trying to cling onto the notion that you couldn’t have known, how could you have known? But the majority of your mind beat back those thoughts, letting the sickening guilt take over and push you into a dark corner. Debriefing had been a nightmare. General Organa had, of course, told you that it wasn’t your fault, that it was nobody’s fault but the spy she hadn’t discovered in time. She could sense the weight on your shoulders, sense you falling into a pit inside of yourself. 

After the meeting, she had pulled you aside.

“Y/N. I need you to look at me,” she said, turning your head gently but firmly with her right hand. “It isn’t your fault. You did everything you could. Sometimes, things are just out of our control.”

“I know,” you lied, just wanting this conversation to be over. Leia could sense your apprehension, and sighed.

“Look, I know that nothing I say is going to change how you feel, because I’ve been there, and I know what you’re thinking. I know it’s hard. Trust me.” you look down at the floor, scuffing the tip of your boot across the dusty ground. “It will get better. I promise you.”

“Thanks, general.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leia?” she asks lightly as you turn to walk away.

“A few more, apparently,” you respond, the ghost of a false smile resting over your face. With that, you turn on your heel and head to your quarters. 

You step through the door as it slides open and sit down on your bed. You reach for your datapad, wanting to distract yourself with something. 

You click the screen on, and your heart drops. Staring back at you are the smiling faces of your squadron. You’re all clustered around Mari’s new droid, with hands on its shiny purple head. She had been so happy to get that little guy. 

Now they were both nothing more than dust drifting through the empty expanse of space.

 You hurl the tablet at the wall, watching as the screen shatters and falls to the floor. 

You place your head in your hands, silent sobs racking your body. You clench your hair in your hands, knuckles turning white. You stand up, body shaking, and walk out of your quarters.

You pass Finn in the hallway. He smiles at you, but you can’t bring yourself to do the same. You feel awful as he looks back at you as you pass him, but at this point there’s no use trying to fix it. You trudge outside and up to your x-wing sitting on the tarmac, the edges of the wings blackened from smoke. You glance around, checking the coast is clear, then scurry up the ladder and into the cockpit. You check the time. 

1800. 

Sighing, you boot up your craft and quickly take off. You cruise over the base a few times, watching everyone go about their day. Like nothing happened. Like 10 of the most beautiful, vibrant souls hadn’t just been snuffed like a match. You swallow the knot in your throat and head for the atmosphere. You need to get away from here. 

-

“General Organa!” Leia turns, to see a frenzied runway tech sprinting towards her. “Y/N took off on an unauthorized flight.” 

Leia swallows thickly, her heart dropping. “How long ago?”

“We noticed she was left just now - but it looks like she’s been gone about an hour.” 

“Then there’s nothing we can do but hope she comes back safely.”

“That’s what I was worried about.”

-

You land on a nearby forest planet, after searching for about ten minutes for a place to touch down. You pick a plateau on the Western side, lowering your land gear as you begin to descend. You hop down from your ship onto the grassy earth, and look around. 

It’s quiet up here. There’s a soft wind blowing, and it weaves delicate fingers through your hair and across your face as you take off your helmet. You let it fall to the ground, and decide to walk around for a bit. You make your way to the edge of the plateau, and look out across the forest beyond. It stretches on for miles, a swath of dark green. The last rays of the sun blaze across the sky, painting the clouds with a pink-orange hue. 

You glance down, and your heart drops to your toes. It’s a long way to the ground below. You begin to back up, but for some reason you find yourself stopping. You get closer to the edge, still looking down. It would be so easy to just take another step. Just one more. All of this would be over. You wouldn’t have to feel this guilt anymore. 

Your knee lifts up slowly.

Realizing what you’re about to do, you scramble back, falling to the dirt. You brace your hands on the ground, digging your fingers into the earth to anchor yourself. Your chest heaves, and your vision spins. The ground seems to buckle, to toss you around. The sky bends and arches above you as you struggle to breathe. You roll over onto your stomach and wrap your arms around your knees. 

You don’t know how long you lie there, but by the time you have the courage to stand up and walk again, the moon is floating in the sky above you, and the stars glimmer against a black backdrop. 

You climb back into your x-wing and sit there, staring at your dashboard. Your eyes meet one of the few pictures leaned against the fuel gague. You and Poe lean against his x-wing a few months ago. You have your arms wrapped around each other. He’s kissing your cheek, and you’re laughing, open-mouthed, your nose scrunched up and your eyes shut tight. 

You take a shuddering breath. Poe. You couldn’t believe what you’d almost done - what you still might do, if you don’t get out of here. You couldn’t leave him like that. You rapidly go through your flight checklist and then take off, headed back to base. 

You land on the tarmac around 0200, exhausted and beaten down by your own thoughts. You hop out of your ship, landing on the ground with a thud. 

You start walking, not really knowing where your legs are taking you, but you end up at Poe’s quarters. You can hear movement inside the room. You raise a trembling hand and knock once.

He opens the door, and his eyes widen. His mouth moves silently, searching for words.

You swallow thickly, a nervous knot tying in your stomach. 

He takes a step toward you, not quite believing what he’s seeing. Leia had told him that you’d left suddenly after their meeting, and he had grown worried that you were hurt, or worse. But here you are, standing in front of him. Your form is limp and you’re drawn into yourself. Your face and neck are caked with blood and dirt, and your eyes are clouded and empty. 

“Hi,” you say weakly. He quickly closes the gap between the both of you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your arms hang limp beside you.

“Stardust,” he breathes, holding you tightly. “I was so worried.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, falling down your face and onto Poe’s shoulder. He pulls back, concerned. Cradling your face in his hands, his eyebrows crease with worry. 

He looks down at you, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. There’s a silent question written across his features. You shake your head tearfully. You don’t know what to say. 

“Baby…” he whispers, pulling you close to his chest again. You clutch at the back of his shirt with shaking hands.“I’m here now - you’re safe. You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok.” He repeats those two words over and over like a mantra, equally to himself as to you. “Let’s get you inside, ok?” he says, and you nod. Placing a hand on the small of your back, he guides you into his quarters. 

“I’ll grab some clothes for you,” he says as you sit down on the edge of the bed. He rustles through his drawers, eventually coming up with a long-sleeved olive green shirt and a pair of grey boxer shorts. He sets them on the bed next to you. “Are you good to take a shower?” You think about it for a minute, and slowly shake your head. The idea of being pounded with thousands of tiny droplets makes you want to hide under a blanket. 

“Too much,” you murmur, and he nods in understanding. 

“Ok, love, that’s fine. We do need to clean you off and deal with these cuts, though.” he gestures to the lacerations across your skin. You nod weakly. You hear him pad over to the refresher unit and grab a medkit and some washcloths, which he wets under some running water from the sink. 

He kneels in front of you, and motions for you to take off your flight suit. You slip it halfway off, letting it rest around your waist. Poe sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the bruises blooming across your torso and arms. You’d gotten tossed around pretty bad, getting knocked through space by several of the TIEs. You’d slammed your sternum right into the dashboard at one point, and small fragments of something had slashed open nearly every bit of exposed skin and even some under your suit. 

“Y/N…” he says quietly, tearing up. You bite the inside of your cheek, hating to see him so upset. 

He gets to work cleaning your cuts. He’s as gentle as he can be, but you still hiss as the cold water on the washcloth cleans out your cuts, and tears start to fall as he bandages up a particularly bad cut on your stomach. He holds your hand the whole time, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you need to, never even flinching as your vice grip tightens around his fingers. 

“Ok, baby, let me check your legs and then you’re all set,” he says, and you turn away, face flushing with nervousness. He’s confused for a second, then has a moment of understanding. He’s never seen you naked - you weren’t ready to get intimate yet, so you guys had been taking it slow, and now really wasn’t the best time to breach that barrier. “You can change into the shorts first,” he says quietly, and you look back at him gratefully. 

You make your way to the refresher unit, shutting the door behind you. You peel off your flight suit the rest of the way, followed by your undergarments, crusted with blood from the cuts on your stomach. You pile the discarded clothes in a pile by the shower, and slip on the shirt and shorts Poe had leant you. You take the opportunity to glance into the mirror above the sink, and grimace at the reflection that gazes back at you. Hair messy and tangled, face bruised and covered with small cuts, you were not a pretty sight to behold. Sighing, you head back into the main room. 

Sitting back down on the bed, you lean against the wall and stretch your legs out in front of you. Poe sits down on the mattress next to you, surveying your exposed limbs. They aren’t as bad as the upper half of your body, but they definitely aren’t good. He dabs at the cuts gently, taking your hand again. He mutters sweet nothings as you clench your teeth and shut your eyes tightly for the next few minutes as he finishes up. 

“All done,” he eventually says, and you relinquish your grip on his hand, wiping the tears from your eyes. He looks up at you, and you almost melt at the love in his eyes. You realize in that moment how lucky you are - that no matter what, he’ll always take care of you. Always. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he smiles softly, opening his arms. You crawl over to where he’s leaned against the headboard and collapse into his embrace, breathing beginning to even out. 

“You need sleep, baby,” he says, and you nod. “You can stay here, if you want.” You nod again, and he presses a kiss to your hair. “I’ll grab some extra blankets from the closet.” He gets up and goes to retrieve them. You get under his comforter and lay your head down on one of the pillows. Your eyes drift closed.

 Poe pads back over to the bed and pauses, looking down at you. He swallows thickly, tearing up. He makes a promise to himself then and there that he’d never lose you like that. Never again. 

He lays another blanket over you, then switches off the lights. He quickly changes into some sleep clothes and then gets under the covers, laying down facing you. 

“Poe?” you mumble, searching for his face in the dark. 

“Right here, honey,” he says softly, and you inch closer to him, a bit nervous to get too close. He senses your unease and smiles softly. “Cmere,” he says, draping a hand over your waist and pulling you close to him. You tuck your head against his chest, a warm feeling creeping into your very core. Being this close to him is grounding. You take a deep breath in. The scent of the lavender soap he uses clings to his skin, and it washes over you. You listen to his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

“I love you,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize what you just said. The two of you haven’t exactly said it before. You feel Poe freeze beside you, and your heart drops. You mentally kick yourself. How could you say that right now?

“I love you too,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. You blush furiously as he tilts your head up with his thumb and forefinger. “To the edge of the universe and back.” He presses his lips to yours, feather soft. 

“I love you,” you say again, just because you can. He smiles softly. 

“I’m proud of you, I want you to know that,” he says after a while. “For...getting through all this. I know it hurts, and it’ll stay that way for a bit, but…” he pauses, taking your hand in his. “But I’ll always be here if you need me. To talk, or just listen. You can lean on me, ok?”

“Ok,” you say quietly, looking up into his eyes. 

“Ok,” he whispers.

“Ok.” You smile, and his heart flips at the beauty of it. He pulls you into his chest once more, and you’re out like a light almost instantly. He presses his lips to your forehead before drifting off, holding you tightly in his arms.